


The Marks We Carry

by Corvus_Aconitum



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Caring Renard, Case Fic... kind of, Gen, Nick BAMF, Nick Whump, Pre-Slash, Snark, Trust Issues, cursing, hexenwerk/ empowered touch, our guys fighting wesen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Aconitum/pseuds/Corvus_Aconitum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Hank on holiday and Nick hunting a dangerous murderer Captain Renard decides to lend a helping hand. Will they get out of this unscathed or will unforeseen difficulties catch them unawares?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Can be seen as an alternative to the episode Volcanalis or something similar. Set approximately at the same time, anyway.  
> Have fun!!

Nick takes up the case folder and makes his way over to Renard’s office. The door is open so Nick knocks twice on the frame before entering. His Captain – sitting behind his desk in his usual attire of slacks, dress shirt, tie and suit jacket – glances up from whatever report he has been reading.

“Nick.” He puts his current reading material off to the side.

 “Captain.”

The younger man takes a step closer, throws a significant side glance to the open door and closes it after receiving Renard’s silent okay.

 “Any new leads on your case, Detective?”

“Jup. I was finally able to trace where the victim, Elysa Stephens, was killed. It took me a while but now I have matched the pictures from her camera to an actual location. It’s far out in Forest Park, way behind Germantown Road, actually.”

“Good. Your main suspect was someone named Veering, right? Anything new on him?”

Nick nods before launching into his report.

“Arthur Veering and Elysa Stephens have met before. Veering was a guide on a tour Stephens took a few months ago yet he said that neither did he know the vic nor did he ever lead any tours to that part of the forest. That cannot be true, though.”

By now Nick is leaning against the office wall, his posture relaxed, that folder forgotten in his hand as he knows all the facts by heart, anyway. It is something that Sean values greatly about his Grimm Detective. Nick has an eye for details, a good memory and a well developed sense of empathy to aid him in solving crimes.

No matter how difficult a turn their working relationship has taken after the whole Juliette/ key incident Nick is still one of his best Detectives and Sean isn’t going to forget or disparage that. On the contrary, being the patient, level headed man he is, he will wait calmly until Nick is able to somewhat trust him again.

He has meant, what he had said before, together they could write history.

Without showing any of his inner thoughts the Captain refocuses his attention back on Nick when he continues:

“According to the travel agency, Veering has stepped in as a last minute substitute as tour guide. He isn’t on any of the official records because those were already finished when he volunteered to do the tour but one of the agency clerks remembered it.”

“And is there any other link between him and the vic?”

“I have a feeling that there is but as of now I cannot yet lay my finger on what it may be. I have found out something else about Veering, though. He is a wesen called Hexenbann.”

Nick observes his Captain closely, waiting for a reaction to this piece of information. Apart from the smallest widening of his eyes he cannot detect any sign that this means anything to him, there’s just contemplative silence in face of his announcement. He leans back in his chair now as if to distance himself from everything that’s been said so that he may glean more insight into it all.

Long fingers slowly trace his lips before he obviously comes to some conclusion of his own. Renard rises, walks around his desk and fixes Nick with an intense gaze while leaning back against the desk top.

“You said the vic’s name was Elysa Stephens?”

Green eyes narrow in thought for a moment.

“That name does ring a memory. I’m not ultimately sure but the woman might have been a Hexenbiest. I will talk to some of my contacts to see if I am right.”

“It would make sense; a bit much of a coincidence, a Hexenbiest and a Hexenbann without any link at all? Could definitely be a lead.” Nick replies thoughtfully, already going through all options this new revelation might have brought up.

“I couldn’t find out much about what a Hexenbann does or what makes it dangerous. I only found some foot note written below apicture I recognized saying that there’s a long standing enmity between them and Hexenbiests.”

Again Nick waits for Renard to come forth with some information of his own but the Royal remains frustratingly silent, playing it close to his chest as he often does.

Damn the man!!

The Grimm knows, though, that as long as Renard wants to keep his knowledge to himself – and only God knows why he does this time – he won’t get anything out of him.

“Surveillance told me that Veering drove off from home early in the morning today. Sadly they’ve lost him sometime after NW Cornell Road enters Washington Park but I think I know where he’s heeded. Looks like he’s taking one of the many track roads that go up North. He knows the area too well for Surveillance to find him but I put ‘em up to watch any roads leaving Forest and Washington Park. I want to have a look at the place where our vic was killed sometime today, see if I my hunch is correct.”

Renard gives his okay with a slight incline of his head. Nick has to admit, if only to himself, it makes him look decidedly regal – and not in a weird or laughable way either. Damn the man for being able to pull that off.

“With Hank on holiday, who do you want to take with you?”

This catches Nick off guard. He hasn’t even thought about it, simply assuming he would go alone.

“Well, seeing, as you said, that Hank isn’t here and I cannot take Wu because this will be something wesen related almost certainly... oh and Monroe’s gone off to some clock maker’s convention, returning only around 9pm tonight....” He trails off, having run out of options of who to ask.

Renard frowns.

“I don’t think you should go alone. Considering that you do not know what you are up against and how far out the place is this strikes me as too risky... even for a Grimm.”

Sean pins him with a stern stare, daring him to argue. Tense silence hangs between them.

“Maybe... maybe I should help you with this one.... If you are okay with it?” Renard regards him with a raised eyebrow, waiting patiently for his answer. Nick hesitates. He knows that his boss doesn’t have to ask for his permission per se and in some way he appreciates the effort. For a moment longer he remains silent, contemplating what to do.

“Sure, why not.” Nick gives a wry smile which Sean mirrors with the smallest quirk of lips. He is by no means stupid. Of course, he recognizes the Grimm’s answer for the olive branch that it is.

They agree to meet late in the afternoon. Nick will pick up Renard at home so that the Captain can change into clothes more practical for on outdoor trip and Nick can take another look at his books before they drive out. 

>>> 

The first half an hour of the drive passes in silence. Nick hasn’t said anything antagonistic but Sean has cultivated a keen sense for undercurrents of smallest emotions early on in his life and just now this sense is warning him that something has happened. He waits. Sometimes you just have to wait someone out. He is a master in this art and not about to be disappointed.

“You could have told me, you know?”

“Told you what exactly?”

“Don’t act ignorant. I mean the tiny unimportant fact, that poison of a Hexenbann is practically deadly on sight to Hexen- _and_ Zauberbiests! And don’t tell me, you did not know about Hexenbanns already. They are practically your arch enemies!”

“Don’t presume to know my enemies, Detective. Their poison isn’t harmful to you, so I haven’t put you in danger by not informing you. The rest is a purely personal matter.” Nick glances at his boss in profound irritation. He doesn’t even deny it! And he looks as aloof as always, expression once again inscrutable.

“You are, _sir_ , for all intents and purposes, my partner right now, so it might have been nice to know that this can _kill_ you!”

“A gun shot to the head can kill me, too, nonetheless _that_ is a normal aspect of police work.” Renard deadpans with a glare. Nick nearly growls in frustration. At least there’s some emotion now.

“Did you think that revealing something like this to your local Grimm would be to your disadvantage? Well, surprise, I found out, anyway! What are you going to do now? Chug a zaubertrank down my throat to take the knowledge away?!”

The Captain looks at him as if he has lost his marbles.

“You are exaggerating now. Not telling you was not part of some scheme I cooked up, it was...” He trails off, obviously frustrated.

“A matter of pride?” Nick supplies succinctly. Renard narrows his eyes nearly imperceptibly before any and all emotion vanishes from his face. Well, there’s definitely been some anger there.

At first Nick is surprised that for once Renard has given away his thoughts but then finds, it is not Renard suddenly more open but Nick better able to read the man. The revelation comes as a bit of a shock. After all, rumours have it that even the most shrewd of politicians despair in face of Captain Renard’s dispassionate facade.

He seems to know his boss much better than he thought.

It still stings a bit to have been left in the dark for no other reason than a Royal’s pride but to be honest, he would have been kind of disappointed if the man, whose name _literally_ meant _fox_ , would have been completely open to him. 

Nick sighs. Time to swallow his own pride (and prejudice, haha, pun intended) and make this work.

“Look. It’s not a matter of thinking you weak now that I know what a Hexenbann can do to you or other such bullshit. It is, simply put, a matter of liability.”

Renard shows emotion now! A black glare burns into him as if he has mortally insulted the man.

“Oh come on, don’t you go there now! It’s not a liability that you cannot woge – hell, a few months ago I didn’t even know you could do that and _still_ I thought someone would have to be dead stupid to cross you – I don’t _need_ you to do that!! What I need from you however, Captain, is the full picture so I know I can rely on you no matter what we face!” 

Nick pauses.

“Do I make any sense?” Renard finds himself reluctantly amused despite this more than uncomfortable topic of conversation. For all their differences, Nick is still Nick – one moment hot headed and hardened by his experiences, then unsure of himself and so innocent that it’s bordering on adorable.

“As unexpected as it may be, you do make sense.... in a convoluted kind of way.” Renard’s superior smirk makes Nick’s eyebrow twitch but he swallows his own pride – again.

“Well, let’s come clean then. What information were you able to glean from those books of yours?”

Nick is a bit exasperated that they are back to Captain and Detective as if nothing has happened but some habits die hard and so he rattles off his findings:

“The wesen group called Hexenbanns have sworn to kill Hexen- and Zauberbiests on principle. Thankfully they are quite rare – and Hexenbiests are rather hard to kill – or we would have a whole lot more dead... _citizens_ in Portland.”

For benefit of their continued work relationship Nick omits the part about not minding a few more dead Hexenbiests and Renard pretends not to have seen the Grimm’s glare, which speaks of personal experience, when he’s talked about Hexenbiests avoiding death rather skilfully.

Normally Renard doesn’t have such inhibitions but as he knows that Nick resorts to killing wesen only as a last resort, he lets it slide. No matter how much Nick despises his female counterparts, he would never kill one just because she is a Hexenbiest. Although hard to admit sometimes, Sean knows Nick is a better man than that.

“Their poison is only deadly to Hexen- and Zauberbiests when they are in woge, thus, as long as you do not woge it cannot kill you... with its poison at least. Anything I forgot? I couldn’t find anything about how they recognize those they want to kill, or if it is pure chance with which they come across their victims.”

“They do possess the ability both to recognize us on sight and to make us woge against our will... although my control is better than most so that remains to be seen.”

A glint of steel in Renard’s watchful gaze accompanies the statement.

Nick is worried nonetheless, though the fact that he is at all, surprises him. Of course there’s always a certain degree of comradely concern for your colleagues but this is stronger, the feeling more alike to fierce protectiveness. Nick clams down on that emotion immediately. He needs to keep a cool head, needs to be professional about this.

>>> 

They move silently through the dark forest. Despite usually not working as partners they function well together, communicating through small gestures, no more than shadowy phantoms in the night. They’ve left the car about a mile from here, slowly approaching their final destination as shown on Nick’s cell phone.

Renard’s arm shoots out to the side, hand flat, fingers splayed wide. Nick reacts instinctively, stops at his Captain’s silent command. There’s a camp site of some kind not far ahead.

In the middle of it, kneeling on the ground is Arthur Veering, his silhouette distinctive even in the dead of night. He seems to be searching for something, if his frantic movements are any indication. The fact that he is here, in the exact location where Elysa Stephens has been supposedly killed, is a heavy indicator of his guilt.

Nick brings up his service gun and, looking to Renard for confirmation, moves forward to get a good vantage point while his boss does the same. They move away from each other so that they close in on their suspect at a slight angle.

Sean issues a standard police warning, voice carrying clearly, ordering Veering to stop what he’s doing, move his hands up to his head and turn around.

The man turns around slowly raising his gaze up from the ground. The moment his eyes meet Renard’s it is as if two powerful, aggressive auras clash. Recognition lights the Hexenbann’s slitted eyes with an unholy glow.

Involuntarily Nick takes a step back as the pure intensity of their natural enmity hits him like a physical force. Veering hisses, not moving yet in face of their guns, but murderous intent building in those glowing blue eyes.

TBC

 


	2. Fate Sealed

 

Chapter 2: Fate sealed

 

Sean is well aware of the crucial moment when Veering’s powers reveal his wesen side. A shudder goes through his body that even his iron control cannot repress. Renard prides himself on being strong willed, tough and practically unshakable but this feels like he is totally exposed, served on a platter in complete nakedness. Despite all this, though, he does feel no inclination to woge as he would have expected. He knows, although admitting to it is hard, that this has nothing to do with his own self mastery, it is something different... something he cannot place, yet.

 

“Veering, I repeat, put your hands behind your head and do _not_ move.” It is Nick, all professionalism even in face of that invisible force, that palpable tension which makes his hairs and every Grimm sense he possesses stand on end!

There’s a moment of distraction, a split second when Veering’s head whips around to Nick, to that newly perceived source of danger, then the man himself is forced to reveal his wesen side!!

 

He growls deep in his throat.

“ _You_!! What are you doing here, working together with a filthy Zauberbiest? You should **_kill it_** , not grovel at its feet!!”

 

Suddenly their suspect moves, nearly too fast to make out in the dark. Gunshots echo through the night but none hit their target. Veering is too damn fast! He leaps over boxes and other stuff, fleeing through scrubs, weaving around trees.

 

Renard takes up chase, moving fluidly like a magnificent creature of prey. For a short space of time the Grimm can only stare, then he shakes himself out of it, ready to follow his boss. Something stops him, though.

 

Call it Grimm instinct or the sixth sense of a Detective but Nick notices another living being just at the edge of his awareness. He whips around. Has there been some movement to his left?

Damn! It’s exactly opposite of where the perp and Renard have run off to. Not an ideal situation considering police procedure. He notices movement again, however, and finally the shape of a human being is visible against pale moonlight. It bends down just now, takes up some item from the ground. The Grimm holds his breath, tries to ignore his quickly beating heart. Did it notice him? How could it not, he had been shouting out police orders! He strains to see what was taken up.

 

Moonlight catches on a silver pendant of some sort, a pendant speckled with tiny dark dots.

He knows what this is. Their vic’s PM has revealed that a chain of some kind has been ripped away from around her throat and here a stranger picks up a pendant dangling from a thin broken chain. A pendant speckled with what surely is blood.

 

As Nick’s expression darkens to a fierce scowl, as his instincts scream at him, that Veering had help from a second person, the Grimm in him comes to the forefront. Subconsciously moving into a slight crouch, ready to run, to fight, to chase, he stares at the other creature until finally their eyes meet.

 

The stranger gives a slow head shake, familiar by now as movement accompanying a full woge. Skin looses colour, lips darken to absolute black and hands morph into claws! A low, vicious, throaty laugh is let out, eyes light up with evil intent before the unknown wesen rushes away into the night with Nick on hot pursuit.

He is vaguely worried about the situation they have manoeuvred themselves into.

_This could be a trap! This is a trap almost certainly!!_

Even knowing this, he’s equally sure that he has to catch this man in order to solve the case! And so he runs!

 

>>> 

 

Up ahead Nick can barely make out the dark shape of his target while he fights his way through the forest.

 

_Damn it! Whoever this is, he seems to be much better equipped to run through this bleeding mass of greenery and branches than I am!_

 

A particularly vicious hit in the face by one of the aforementioned branches takes his sight for a moment – enough time for spooky guy to vanish without a trace!

 

_Damn it!_

Again Nick internally curses as he slows down from running at full tilt. Gun at the ready he moves on, straining all his senses to perceive hidden danger. But in a nightly forest all kinds of strange noises and creepy shapes crop up, so it’s nearly impossible to say what is natural and what a warning sign for an approaching creature. Adrenaline courses through his blood as Grimm senses take the lead.

He hears a distinctive noise to the left, turns that way lightning quick, and is completely caught off guard when he is attacked viciously from the right!!

 

Only good reflexes safe his life when razor sharp claws lash out, going for his throat. He tilts his body back and to the side at a nearly impossible angle; feels something like knives rip into skin and draw blood despite his effort. With a cry of pain he rolls into a crouch, away from his attacker, accidently dropping his gun in the process.

 

“You just sealed you death, foolish Grimm.” His words are a throaty drawl, delivered with dark amusement. Nick whirls around still crouching, heavy booted foot shooting out in a kick at the wesen’s kneecap. He’s faster than his opponent has expected and hits his aim dead on. With a screech it staggers back, hindered but not quite felled. Anger and hot blood fuel the Grimm’s next movements as he jumps up, follows and punches spooky guy with his fists! The paper white thing is far from defeated, though, and lunges at anything that gets into range of its claws.

 

They are moving away from the narrow path, locked in deadly battle, exchanging blows, wrestling for control. Nick’s in luck, so far he hasn’t sustained any other wounds apart from the one on his upper right arm and curiously that one doesn’t hurt all that much. But his fortunate streak only lasts so long:

 

Spooky guy changes tactics. He feigns a lunge, only to punch the Grimm right into his stomach while he raises his arm in defence. All air is pressed from his lungs at the brutal impact. He staggers to the ground, gasping for breath, has to blink several times to clear his vision.

 

He sees it at the last possible moment: The wesen goes in for the kill, vicious already bloodied claws slashing down. Instead of rising in defense Nick lets himself fall back even further and gets up a boot as spooky guy is charging at him from above...

... He grabs its wrists just as those talons are inches from his throat and throws him far over his own body using his foot as leverage to push! He expects his opponent to crash down near him but instead of a muffled thud he hears a long drawn out screech. Nick rises quickly, whirls around...

 

...and finds himself inches from a precipice which goes down at least 30 feet!

 

His heart nearly stops in shock before beating in a ferocious staccato as if to compensate for its earlier near stop.

_Whew, that’s been a hair’s width!_

Spooky face has not been so lucky, apparently. Nick can make out his body far down on the ground, unmoving, limbs sticking out at odd, nausea inducing angles.

 

He stares down there for a long time before shaking himself out of his stupor. Taking stock of his injuries he finds that apart from that one set of truly nasty claw marks he’s sustained only bruises – even if there’s a lot of them.

 

His shirt sleeve is shredded impressively considering it has been only one lunge –and blood is flowing rather too freely for his liking – but still there is almost no pain.

_Curious and a little disconcerting to be honest...._

 

Something tiny catching on a ray of moonlight pulls him from his thoughts:

 

It is the blood speckled pendant on the broken chain! He picks it up, carefully, brings it near to his face for closer inspection...

 

And that’s when a pained cry slices through the night! He would know that tone of voice anywhere! It’s his Captain!

 

Sliding the pendant into an evidence bag and that into the back pocket of his jeans, he takes off in direction of the noise.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time luck was with our favourite Grimm... or wasn't it?


	3. Warrior Of Olden Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On goes the wild hunt. What happened to Renard and will Nick reach him in time?

 

Chapter 3: Warrior of olden times

 

Nick runs through the nightly forest at full speed! That other wesen has caught him unawares; has made him leave the Captain alone when he’s clearly at a disadvantage. They’ve wanted to separate them and damn, they have succeeded! He has to get to his Captain!

 

He knows two things about Hexenbanns: First, Renard cannot woge least he wants to risk being spewed with poison and killed. Second, Hexenbanns, though quite rare, are exceptionally strong and quick.

 

The Grimm strains to listen, strains to hear anything other than his own wildly beating heart and harsh breathing. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins, though, making him strong and fast. After his fight with that second wesen, after having his right arm slashed by its claws, every one of his Grimm instincts is out in the open – ready to defend, ready to kill, if necessary!

 

There!! He hears them clearly now! Exchanging what sounds like opening words to their last fight while he mobilises everything to run faster, to get there on time:

 

“You want to kill me, don’t you? You want to rip me apart. You want to beat me to a pulp... but you cannot do that, can you?” It is Renard speaking, his voice low, taunting, chilling. The Hexenbann growls low in his throat, sounding ready to do just that – to rip, to slash, to kill!

 

“It wouldn’t be honourable, would it? They would execute you, if you just killed me as I am. You are not allowed to kill innocents, only hexenbiests. And you can do it only through your poison, to proof that it was a hexenbiest you killed.”

 

Nick cannot let him be killed... he won’t let it happen!! He has sworn to hunt down the bad ones, sworn by his aunt’s grave to defend wesen and kehrseite alike!

 

Something in him breaks loose. No matter what Renard did, no matter what issues they have to clear up in order to function together as Grimm and Royal without killing each other, Nick knows deep down, that Sean Renard ultimately is just that – someone worth defending. And he won’t let the man die!!

 

Finally he can see them! Squinting while thin branches and brambles slap and claw at him, he can make them out far ahead in some kind of natural depression in the forest ground. It’s about 35 feet in diameter and closed on three sides by the very parapet he is heading for. In other words: A perfect place to kill someone who cannot use his full strength and is vulnerable to a spewing of your poison once he does.

 

The Captain is using a tree as support to lever himself up. The attack which elicited a cry of pain from the Zauberbiest must have been a bloody strong one!

“You want me to woge, so that you can kill me? Then make me!!” Renard snarls as he steps away from the tree. And Veering does – or at least he does his damn best to reach his goal! A long hunting dagger poised for fight, he attacks! Renard deflects a dangerous slash! He holds himself but in the end the Hexenbann might be too fast, too fuelled by rage and bloodlust!

 

Renard’s running out of time but he is not giving an inch, yet. On the contrary, he has that determined gleam in his eyes that has made criminals and co-workers alike shudder at its intensity. He is still in his human form but for all this he exudes power in waves, looks ready to fight until his last breath. He gets in a few good punches, showing every bit of his fighting skills but it comes at a high cost! The dagger grazes his arm, slashes into fabric and finally skin. Blood sprays in a thin spatter of crimson droplets caught by moonlight.

 

“I will cut you to pieces, you unworthy piece of vermin! But I won’t kill you, _no_ , I will make you scream in agony and calmly wait for you to woge...!”

 

A roar of pure rage rips from Nick’s throat as he leaps from the edge! The two fighting adversaries seem to be frozen in time for a single moment, or at least that’s how it looks to the angry Grimm. He aims, locks muscular legs around the wesen’s neck and lands. Nick rides on its shoulders like a warrior of old times, wild, proud, enraged, as he uses his momentum to throw Veering off balance!

 

To Sean it all happens in a flash. One moment he’s fighting off his potential murderer, the next Nick comes practically flying out of nowhere.... No, not nowhere, but from atop the high parapet encircling the large pit.

 

As a royal bastard and half-zauberbiest he has seen many things but this is unprecedented! He can only stare as the scene unfolds.

 

Silhouetted against a partial moon Nick looks like a creature of myth. His upper body is held erect, poised for fight, ready to kill! Hair in disarray, right side of his shirt torn to shreds he looks wild and dangerous as he pushes over his adversary with the sheer force of his bodyweight applied in flight. Strong legs lock around the wesen’s sinewy neck, press down and keep poisonous glands closed even as they cut off breath and blood flow. Sean and Nick, they both wait for a crucial point.

 

And it comes on their descend.

The moment Veering’s deadly weapon clatters to the ground, slipping from suddenly numb fingers, Nick gives his body a powerful twist, flipping them both around and landing them on their backs.

 

Renard sees where Nick wants this to lead and springs into action! Rushing up to them, invading Veering’s personal space, as he lies there helpless and dazed, he woges.

 

Rage flows into glowing blue eyes of the Hexenbann before murderous intent is unleashed full force! Nick feels pressure against his legs, which are still wound tightly around the wesen’s neck. That must be the poison being spewed... or being tried to, anyway. He isn’t sure what will happen next, hasn’t found anything in aunt Marie’s books about how to defeat a Hexenbann. Renard seems to have a plan, though. Nick has worked with him long enough to know him as a master strategist. The Royal bastard would not have woged at all, if it didn’t serve his needs.

 

The wesen in his grip begins to convulse suddenly. He locks eyes with Renard, sees pure determination there, and begins to understand. This is the way to defeat a Hexenbann.

 

After some time Veering stills. He lies motionless when he finally turns back to his human form.

“His own poison annihilated his wesen side. He’ll be out cold for at least 12 hours. It’s the time his metabolism needs to accommodate to its fully human state.”

 

Both release breaths they didn’t know they’ve held. Nick surprises himself by grinning in relief as he unlocks his legs and scoots back a bit.

 

“Wheew, they got us good, didn’t they?”

“Yes, I’m afraid they nearly got the drop on us.” Renard replies with something between irony and bemusement. Observant green eyes veer to freely bleeding gashes visible through the shreds of Nick’s shirt.

“Apropos ‘they’, who attacked you? Is there a second Hexenbann around? And those are claw marks, aren’t they?” Nick spares his injuries a short glance. He shrugs them off (better than to think too thoroughly about them) and replies:

 

“Oh, those. Not as bad as they seem. In fact I barely feel them.” He skilfully ignores the Captain’s sceptical frown.

 

“There was a second wesen, yes. No Hexenbann, tough. And dead now... took an unfortunate fall some 30 feet down. Other than that I’m not sure. He worked together with Veering. They planned it all out, I think; the separation, this ditch and your... problem. Never mind the fact that their plan must have been set in motion fairly spontaneous, I really should have seen it coming.” Nick shakes his head, trying not to think about what a close call this has been.

 

“I’ve sworn to stop things like these from happening, you know? Good job I’ve done with it, letting some guy keep me away from you although I knew of Veering’s intent to kill you.” Sean sees his Detective ball his hands into fists in frustration, sees guilt cross over Nick’s features before he clams down on his emotions and hides them behind a mask of forced calm.

 

“You did get to me in time, didn’t you?” He pauses shortly and makes sure to lock eyes with his Grimm before he continues:

 

“And in what a fashion... I must say I’m impressed.” The Captain ends with a wry quirk of his lips before turning serious again. He has meant his words – every one of them.

 

“Now, let’s drive to that hut the Ranger mentioned to pass the night. No sense in trying to navigate forest trails at night. We can be glad, if we reach the hut without mishaps. Sensory wise we’re not as well equipped as your blutbad friend, after all.”

 

His sharp gaze moves from Veering’s prone form to Nick’s wound, making the younger man instantly feel like some specimen under a microscope.

 

“And _this_ (he points to Nick’s injuries) will have to be bandaged no matter how much you play it down.”

 

Only years of practice keep Nick from withering under the Captain’s stern glare.

 

“Says the man with a knife wound.” He mutters as he grabs his bosses’ proffered hand to get up from the ground. Once standing he gives himself a thorough once over and can’t help chuckling quietly. At Renard’s questioning gaze he replies between small huffs of helpless laughter:

 

“God, how embarrassing. With all that wetness down my pants from the poison I look like a toddler who just had a potty accident.”

His Captain leaves that diplomatically uncommented but Nick clearly sees the mirthful smirk that tugs at his lips.

 

>>> 

 

They are currently camped out in the Ranger’s hut. Veering is handcuffed outside to a sturdy metal bar, which is part of some storage shed, and still out cold just as the Prince predicted.

They sit – Renard on the only available chair and Nick on a camp bed – with a well stocked first aid kit laid out on a table beside them. An old gas lamp is the only source of light so far.

They had a slight dispute earlier, when Nick argued that he could drive despite his injuries.

 

“It doesn’t hurt all that much!” That was the truth (although Nick didn’t know how that could be because those gashes _were_ quite deep) but going by Renard’s sceptically raised eyebrow his Captain still didn’t believe him. Nick tried to protest some more...

 

That was until the man sent him his widely feared, infamous ‘I brook no arguments’ glare, pointed a single finger at the passenger’s door of Nick’s SUV and ground out lowly:

“Detective. Inside that car. Now!”

At that point Nick wisely shut his mouth and climbed inside the vehicle.

 

>>> 

 

“Will you show me your wounds now?” Renard’s sardonically raised eyebrow poses a silent challenge to the younger Detective.

 

“If you show me yours?” Nick replies sweetly.

 

Renard pinches the bridge of his nose grimacing.

“Is this some girl sleep over, where we show us our wounds before we braid each other’s hair?” Nick barely manages keep in an outright laugh. Maybe that would not go over so well.

 

“At least my hair can be braided”, he says fingering his own longish bangs, before sending a pointed stare at Renard’s short cropped hair.

“Yours, Sir, is a lost cause, I fear.”

“ _You_ , Detective, are getting delusional from blood loss, I fear.”

“I might be.” The Grimm spares a quick glance at his blood covered limb (which Renard has simply grabbed to examine by now and still doesn’t hurt, which is curious), then gives a one shouldered shrug.

 

“But if it helps you in any way, Captain, this is much more like a big boys sleep over. After all we patch up wounds we gained in battle.”

 

Sean doesn’t deign that with an answer but feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth despite himself. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Nick and he mirrors it with a rare boyish grin of his own. A great deal of tension that has stood between them earlier seems to have dissolved, leaving an atmosphere that borders on companionable.

 

 


	4. Inferno

 

Chapter 4: Inferno 

Ten minutes later Nick isn’t in such a good mood anymore. Before, his injuries haven’t hurt much at all. It has felt nearly as if the area has been numbed, something that does worry the Grimm a bit but is, in his opinion, not important enough to be repeated to Renard.

On the other hand, having deep, raw cuts, that span the whole width of your upper arm, wiped out with rubbing alcohol does hurt a whole lot like hell!

Nick’s lips are firmly pressed together to keep himself from crying out. With every swipe Renard takes with that cloth pain grows in intensity.

He knows that his Captain is aware of his discomfort. 

Not much gets past the man and from time to time his observant gaze pulls away from his arm to rake over him, frowning when he notices him getting paler or a fine sheen of sweat beginning to gather on his brow.

“You alright there?” Nick gives a tight nod. Maybe he should have told his boss earlier about that curious absence of pain. As a Detective he has had his fair share of injuries. He knows how it feels to have a deeper wound cleaned and disinfected and this is definitely different. The pain seems to mount, not singularly with each wipe, like he has thought earlier, but continuously.

“It just hurts much more than before.... I meant that literally when I said I could not feel much or any pain from the wound.” Sean’s frown deepens at this admission.

“To use your own words: You could have _told_ me.”

For a long moment that disapproving stare pins Nick down, then Renard sighs wearily.

“Well, what’s done is done. We should keep a close eye on this, though. If anything changes, _tell_ me.” At Nick’s nod he continues his work, now discarding another bloodied swipe and finally covering the long gashes with thick sterile gauze pads. After that a tight bandage is applied and the injured limb carefully placed in a cloth sling.

“That should do it for now. And keep your arm in that sling so that it may stop bleeding soon. You might have been, for whatever reason, not able to feel any pain but the bleeding has been heavier than I like.”

Sean is aware that Nick is uncomfortable with this – to admit weakness in front of him – and he would have spared him, if he could. After all, he knows his piece about damaged pride. However, he also knows that Nick is as stubborn as hell, so in the end the need for clear orders has won out.

“What about your injury? Do you need my help with that?” There’s earnest concern in Nick’s gaze and Sean isn’t stupid enough to refuse help on principle.

He examines his own cut intently before shaking his head. “I’ll manage.”

Nick silently watches the other man as he shrugs out of his shirt gingerly to clean and dress the thin cut on his own arm.

“You do seem to have some practise in patching up injuries.”

Renard inclines his head slightly in affirmation but doesn’t elaborate further, at least not before he is fully dressed again.

“It _does_ come in handy when working for the police....”

“... And there are some courses required when one aspires a higher position in the ranks.”

“Good to know. Who knows if rising in the rank won’t strike my fancy in some years.” Mischievous grey eyes meet with a dry chuckle.

“Do I have to watch my back?”

“Always.” In the blink of an eye Grimm determination and intensity wipe away levity from Nick’s features as he issues this serious warning.

“But not on my behalf. I might not agree with some of the schemes you are running in the background, but betrayal is not something you have to fear from me. There are others, though, as you will know even better than I, so please, _do_ watch your back.”

“I will do.” Renard’s own intense gaze holds Nick’s for a moment.

“But for now I will step outside and see if I can find a current generator or something similar. Chief Ranger Jenkins mentioned something along those lines when I talked to him on the phone earlier so it’s worth a shot – better than sitting around in cold and near dark, anyway.”

The Captain’s right. Temperatures have gone quite low over the last few days, considering Portland’s otherwise mild climate, so for once Nick just nods. He knows that Renard won’t let him help and some dark Grimm instinct tells him that he should use this time wisely to _feel out_ his wound. Something isn’t right! Nick knows that and it makes for quite an unpleasant feeling in his gut.

>>> 

Nick is alone in the hut now and contemplates what he knows about that other wesen – the one that attacked him while he was separated from Renard.

He had long claws; hence the deep, raw cuts and still Nick barely felt any pain. Why would any wesen want to dull pain of a cut? It doesn’t make sense!

...

Except it does in a way:

Numbing pain decreases the hindering effect any injury causes its victim but it also hides the true extend of it. If an injury isn’t painful, if it doesn’t bother you, you can easily underestimate its severity. And that may lead to a whole lot of other...

At first it is a small tickle, then the sharp prick of many needles and then...

A sudden blaze of absolute debilitating agony spreads out across the claw marks!! It is unlike anything the Grimm has ever felt and doesn’t seem to want to lessen anytime soon. Nick cannot stop a nearly inhuman scream ripping from his throat. It is like a red haze has fallen before his eyes as pain, no _agony_ assaults him! He slips from the camp bed, cannot catch his fall, cannot do anything other than scream.

_It spreads from the marks!!_

It’s the only clear thought he can hold onto.

_It spreads out from the marks!!_

_..._

_I have to get off that bandage!!_

Nick writhes on the wooden floor, freeing his injured arm from the sling, nails of his left hand clawing at formerly white, now red tinged bandages. He hits his head on something but barely feels any of it. It is nothing against what is raging under his skin

And then it stops. As suddenly as it begun it stops – so suddenly, indeed, that he continues screaming for a few moments yet. Raw, ragged cries and gasps slice through the night as he lies on his back on the floor not quite able to catch his breath.

As soon as he is able to, however, he fights his way back to his knees to continue his earlier quest:

He has to get off those bandages! He has to see what happened to his injuries, has to see what could have caused such terrifying pain. 

His heart beats fast and painful in his chest as he tries futilely to make trembling clumsy fingers untie the knot holding together the wound coverings.

>>> 

Sean has just found and prodded the generator back to life, when blood curdling screams echo through the forest. He whirls around in the direction of the hut. Those are Nick’s screams but what could have happened to make his Detective scream like this?!

He pulls his gun out of its holster, having retrieved it earlier before they made their way here, and sprints back toward their camp out. 

With relief he sees Veering still cuffed and unconscious on the ground, just the way he has left him earlier but screams are still coming from inside the hut and that puts all his instincts on alert!

When suddenly there’s silence, a cold feeling of dread settles in Sean’s gut. Why have the screams stopped so suddenly... does that mean...?

Gun at the ready he enters the small cabin, veering left, then right, finding the room empty except for Nick who kneels there, alone on the floor.

Re-holstering his weapon he rushes to Nick’s side staring in disbelief at the sight of the Grimm frantically trying to claw away bloodstained bandages.

“Nick, STOP!! What’s happened?” The Grimm doesn’t react to his words, just continues trying to get twitching fingers to obey his command. Forcefully he pulls Nick’s hand away – out of reach of the bandages.

This does get him a reaction. Nick nearly growls, his wild gaze snaps up to him, and he tries his damned best to dislodge his Captain’s hold on him, acting more like a wild animal than a grown man.

“No! Get it off! I have to get it off!!” It takes him a moment to get what Nick wants.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Those were deep wounds; they will start bleeding again, if I take off the wrappings now!”

But Nick can feel a new wave of agony building already! He never wants to feel again, what assaulted him earlier!! He knows it’s coming on fast and merciless and that frightens him into desperate measures: With a mighty wrench fuelled by pure Grimm strength he frees himself from Renard’s grasp and grabs the taller man by the lapels of his jacket roughly! Pulling him toward himself, he pins him with his blackest glare and grounds out:

“GET. IT. OFF!!!”

The Royal and Zauberbiest in Sean want to rip this worthless human being apart for its audacity, want to crush it brutally to make sure that such an act is never again committed or even thought of, but his own human side sees something different, something worrying: 

Nick’s intense wide eyed stare reflects not rage but pure naked fear! It shows remembrance and anticipation of pain as none of them has felt before this day. He reigns in his wesen side before it can, indeed, rip apart and punish and instead grips Nick’s hands firmly where they are still clutching his lapels.

“I will assist you, but you will calm down, Detective! Let me help you... don’t resist me.”

“Please.” Nick’s voice is suddenly hoarse with panic. “Just get... it off! It goes out from... Aaaarrrgh!!!” The sentence ends in another blood curdling scream as his Detective doubles over, writhing within Sean’s hold as another episode of pain hits him.

_What the hell is happening here?!_

Fearing that Nick will injure himself with his wild trashing he does the only thing he can think of: He pulls him against his own chest, restraining violent convulsions with strong arms locked around the Grimm’s torso.

Before long one of his arms and his hand move higher, pressing the side of Nick’s head firmly against his body to keep him from head butting him or injuring himself further.

Those terrible screams hurt Sean’s ears and a leaden helplessness weighs down on him while he waits for an end to Nick’s agony. He doesn’t know what else to do.

When finally the screams die down – long before the pain actually does for Nick has screamed himself hoarse – Sean ever so slowly loosens his hold. Just enough to give Nick a bit more breathing space at first, before simply cradling him to his larger frame when finally pain seems to dim.

Nick wants to say something but his voice has gone out on him. He mouths a single word, though, and after a few tries Sean understands:

“He..lp.”

“I will. Hush now, I will.” The Captain murmurs as he stretches his Detective out on his back and – against his better judgement – begins to unwrap blood soaked bandages. Sean is horrified at what he finds beneath the dressings:

It’s not simply the amount of blood or the gashes themselves; it is dark, almost black vein like patterns discolouring the area around Nick’s wounds! These markings can only mean one thing, one wesen responsible! Cold fear grips the normally unflappable zauberbiest.

_How long has it been since Nick has been attacked?_

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a different kind of action in this chapter... will it be too late for Nick or can he be safed?


	5. Time Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's add Monroe to the picture... poor man... as if a tiring clock maker's convention wasn't enough....  
> We have officially reached the second half of the story... at least that's what I think... which means if this ff doesn't develop even more of a life of its own, then it's going to be no more than 10 chapters in all.

 

Chapter 5: Time Out

 

By now he knows without doubt _who_ has attacked his Grimm Detective. It’s been a wesen called todesqual, or translated into English, torturous death.

He tears his eyes away from bloodied flesh to gaze into Nick’s sickly pale face. He’s barely conscious after this second vicious attack but already his face scrunches up in pain again, his back arches slightly in renewed spasms. Throwing his normally distanced act out of the window, Sean places a large hand on Nick’s sweaty forehead. 

Exhausted, pain clouded eyes veer to his own before squeezing shut again. He moves his hand from brow to chest, feeling a wildly beating heart, a chest heaving with explosive gasps of breath.

“I know what is wrong with you. You were poisoned by the wesen that attacked you.” Eyes snap open again at this. Nick is one of the most strong-willed human beings he knows. Even now he is listening, is reacting to his words when others would long have lost consciousness.

He glances at his watch somewhat relieved that they have not yet crossed the four hour mark.

Four hours, count beginning at the time of injury. It’s the time Nick has left to take the antidote – to prevent him dying of a _truly_ torturous death!

What to do now? It’s been roughly one and a half hours since Nick has been attacked, that leaves two and a half hours at most. 

He has the antidote at home – a safety measure against an assassination attempt his dear family may cook up – but he cannot drive with Nick prone to sudden attacks of agonising pain. They would sooner die in a car crash than have any chance of reaching his condo in time.

So what to do?

He looks down upon his Grimm Detective. Sickly pale, eyes closed in near unconsciousness he already looks like a corpse. Sean shudders despite himself. No, he won’t let that happen. 

As his gaze sweeps over the hut’s interior an idea finally begins to form. Instead of taking his own cell phone he grabs Nick’s instead, scrolls through the contact list and calls Monroe. 

Sean waits impatiently for the blutbad to take up. He knows that Monroe must still be on his way home but he also knows that the man wears a headset when driving in case somebody calls. Finally he hears a click that indicates the other end of the line opening.

“Hey, Nick. I hope you know that I am still driving home from that convention I visited – the convention which I am quite sure I mentioned would be work laden and generally exhausting...!”

“It’s Captain Renard, not Nick. Now, if you value my Detective’s life, stop talking and start listening.”

“What?!? What’s happened? Is this some sick attempt at kidnapping?”

“This is an attempt to save Nick’s life! So listen carefully and do what I tell you! We are running out of time!”

“Okay, okay! Not that I understand any of it, but what can I do?”

Sean exhales in relief.

Nick is aware mostly of pain. Although the actual attack has stopped for the moment he can feel it hiding close to the surface, out of reach and yet ready to lash out again. His Captain’s large hand still rests on his heaving chest presenting his only anchor to anything other than agony. He hears his voice, too: Smooth, firm, issuing orders that had best be obeyed. It’s odd, though, because his conversation seems one sided.

 “You will drive to my condo – address will be send to your phone – to fetch one... no, two zaubertraenke. Tell the man at the reception desk your name. He will know I sent you and let you into my flat. You will take the first door to the left – it leads to my bedroom. Behind the picture depicting a woman with a skull is a safe with a wooden box inside. The code for the safe is 4-7-3-5-9. I’ll repeat this only once, so listen carefully.”

Renard waits until he gets an affirmative from the blutbad before repeating the code.

“Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You will fetch a bottle labelled _Twilight Draught_...”

 “Wait, Nick’s been poisoned by a _Todesqual_?!”

“Yes.” The single word is laden with gravity and some deeper emotion that Monroe is too agitated to analyse right now.

“The second bottle is unlabeled but its content is the only one of lilac colour so you should recognize it easily enough. You will not _touch_ anything else, you will not _look_ anywhere else, just fetch those bottles and get out again.”

“Yes, Sire.” It slips out before Monroe fully realises what he’s saying – an unconscious response to the Prince’s natural authority, his commanding presence carried even over great distance. Monroe finds himself instantly responding to it, finds himself instantly obeying the Prince’s order.

“I will send the coordinates of our position to your cell phone. Now hurry! You’ve got....”

Sean has known it is coming, has felt Nick tense repeatedly under his hand still resting on the Grimm’s chest – he still flinches badly when Nick is assaulted by another episode of gruelling pain.

“Is this Nick screaming!?!”

“One and a half hours, not more, or he’ll be dead!” At the end Sean has to shout to make himself heard above Nick’s hoarse cries. Ending the call he drops the phone before putting all his efforts into keeping Nick immobile.

While his Detective’s face is set in a mask of great pain he can practically see life draining from him! The more the poisoning progresses, the paler Nick becomes, facial colour nearing that of his attacker, and even his lips slowly taking on an inky shade. He has seen corpses of men dying from todesqual poison – they look as if their murderer has wanted to create a grotesque caricature of himself. Lips nearly black, skin paper white and of course, black vein like marks congealing to an inky patch of black skin just above where the victim’s heart is situated.

Nick’s heart is not yet covered by this patch, but he can see dark veins spreading out from the injury with each blast of pain! Going for his heart, going for death!

Sean growls low in his throat when Nick somehow manages to ram an elbow into his stomach but he doesn’t ease his hold. Screams have long given way to low keening sounds, those even worse than the loud cries before.

“Nick. Come on. Hold on. Help is on the way.” He doesn’t know if Nick listens or if he’s completely caught up in a world of pain, but he continues talking, anyway.

“You can do this. I know you are as stubborn as hell. You’ll give me gray hairs well before my time both as a Grimm and as my Detective, so use some of your thick headedness now! Don’t let this defeat you!”

Nick is hopelessly lost in agony. It drowns him, pulls him under, keeps him in its clutches with no hope to escape, and all the while a feeling of deadly cold spreads through him. It goes out from the claw marks, spreading slowly, creeping up to his heart. But it hasn’t reached its destination, yet.

And that means two things: One, he’s still alive, still breathing, and two, more pain!!

After God knows how long he begins to feel something beside torture. His senses slowly work to get other input. He begins to hear the murmur of a deep, smooth voice. He cannot make out words at first, his awareness of a world beyond agony too thin to understand... to make sense.

But in the end he does. He understands what that voice is telling him and desperately tries to follow its command!

Nick cannot move on his own accord. When convulsions die down to occasional spasms he wants to curl up into foetal position and shut out the world. Other than a feeble twitch nothing happens, though. He emits something between a growl and a small keening, the most he can manage to show his frustration. The grip on his body shifts slightly, then the voice is back. Low and smooth like before:

“What is the matter? How can I help?” It’s his Captain’s voice. He knows that now. Nick tries again but his traitorous body only gives another violent twitch when he wants it to curl up.

“Ah.”

Nick has never known his zauberbiest Captain could be this gentle. But he’s experiencing it right now. And experience doesn’t lie. Not when every touch, every move should be pure agony but is somehow bearable with how carefully the man shifts his position within his arms. For some time Nick simply sits there, a boneless heap fully dependent on another man’s support. His right ear – pressed against a broad chest – hears a steady heartbeat, slowed from a fast thrumming to that sedate pace by will power alone, Nick is sure of that. He trembles and shivers but two things somehow ground him:

A heartbeat and a voice.

“Good. You are with me. I know you want to make it all stop but it is good that you are still aware. It means we haven’t lost you, yet. Keep it up. You can do this, Nick.”

Renard shifts beside him, and then a blanket is wrapped around him. When it touches the wound he wants to scream again – cannot do so because that would take even an ounce of strength – but soon that spike of pain fades back into the general throb of underlying discomfort and he begins to feel a little bit warmer.

“Stay awake. Don’t try to do anything more. Just stay aware, that’s more than enough for the moment.” Nick tries to do just that. He doesn’t try to hold himself up on his own anymore – lets the Prince support his weight in full – he doesn’t try to keep his pain hidden.

He simply concentrates on following his Captain’s command.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of respite for our duo? Who knows...?


	6. Cast In Twilight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what can I say, I think we have officially reached pre-slash terrain... just a tiny bit for now but I'm working on that.
> 
> Thanks to shadowolfhunter for getting me hooked on making this just a bit more than Gen and to TeamRenhardt for wonderful comments, which made me even more excited about going on with this.
> 
> Thank you, guys, you're great!

 

Chapter 6: Cast in Twilight

 

Monroe is driving through the dark forest, all of his senses alert. Despite that it’s a wonder he hasn’t crashed into some tree by now because, frankly, his every thought is occupied by a certain Grimm, who may be slowly and painfully dying right now or going insane from pure agony or...!

_Monroe, pull yourself together! Otherwise **you** are going to be the crazy one here! _

He urges his bug to go faster, cursing under his breath as he tries to navigate what some half brain had the audacity to call forest track!

_Damn it! After this whole disaster is over I’ll need to do a week of Pilates and meditation only! Honestly, all the grey hairs Nick’s giving me... not to mention a heart failure!_

He rants in his head because it’s either this or going crazy with worry for his friend! The thought of Nick screaming and writhing on the floor of some dingy hut makes his throat constrict and so he shoves away all those thoughts in lieu of mentally complaining about the things that impertinent Grimm puts him through when he could be at home reading a book.

Finally he reaches the spot where Nick’s SUV is parked not far from a dimly lit cabin. He’s out of his car practically before it’s come to a full stop, but recoils sharply at the overpowering stench of blood, pain and fear that assaults his blutbad senses once outside! His heart sinks at what that implies.

_I swear to you Nick, if you are dead already, I’ll make you.... Damn, if you’re dead I won’t be doing anything to you because...._

He cannot bear to finish that thought and shoves it away again while rushing to the cabin’s entrance. On his way he notices the prone form of someone cuffed to a metal bar. Rage flares inside him! He wants to woge and kill the man even though he’s lying there defenceless! Being cuffed to that bar means that the guy is most likely some criminal and if _he’s_ the one who did this to Nick.... 

When he reaches the wooden door all thoughts other than what might wait for him inside the hut evaporate from his mind.

He presses the handle down and pushes the door open – maybe with more force than strictly necessary – mouth going dry, his fear increasing tenfold at a sudden onslaught of tangy metallic smell.

_The Captain texted they would be in the hut... the hut that fairly **reeks** of blood and sickness...!_

He sees Nick’s boss, kneeling in the middle of the small room, cradling Nick to his much larger frame. This is unexpected – especially as he knows Renard to keep a careful distance to those around him.

Even as he takes it all in he notices the other man flinching in surprise at the sound of his entrance, only relaxing the slightest bit when he half turns and finds himself looking at Monroe.

It’s that last gesture which enables the blutbad to finally move into the room.

_If he’s relieved to see me that must mean Nick isn’t dead, yet. We can still help him despite...._

Despite the many dark smears of blood on the floor and their bodies, despite Nick’s ghostly appearance and the unbelievable amount of pain edged into his features. 

Monroe squats into a crouch beside them, gaze frantically veering between the zauberbiest Prince and Nick. 

“Is he...?”

“No. Still alive... and awake. He fights with all he’s got to stay conscious, though, so you won’t get much of a reaction from him. And we need to act now before it’s too late.”

_So much blood... Nick must have lost loads by now...._

Sean issues orders obviously startling the blutbad – out of dark thoughts, if his expression is any indicator – and instructs him to change place with him so that he himself can administer the antidote.

Monroe does so without question. Handing over a screw capped vial with light blue liquid inside, he slides behind Nick and gathers his friend to his chest with a gentleness that Sean wouldn’t have expected to see, especially considering how gruff and peevish the other man normally acts around the Grimm.

Looking into the clockmaker’s face tells a wholly different story from his prickly exterior, though. He sees deep worry and a certain degree of horror at how bad Nick already looks.

Not that it isn’t justified. His Detective’s skin is almost chalk white by now, his lips nearly black, not to mention that ugly patch of deadly black skin just shy of where his heart is. Sean has ripped open the better part of Nick’s shirt by now to actually see the poisoning’s progress.

With Monroe watching his every move Renard grabs Nick’s chin and presses down on his jaw joints with strong fingers until the younger man finally opens his mouth. Carefully he feeds half of the mixture to him, massaging his throat when it becomes apparent that Nick isn’t able to swallow the stuff on his own.

Monroe is eerily sure that the zauberbiest has done this before... the only question remaining: was a former recipient un _willing_ or un _able_ to swallow whatever the man has intended to give him. He shakes the thought off, not at all comfortable with it, especially with Nick’s life lying in the man’s hands. 

Meanwhile Renard continues treatment, pouring the rest of zaubertrank over those nasty claw marks until every inch is covered. The liquid seems to stick to the wound for a moment before getting absorbed completely.

Collectively they hold their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Nick’s eyes snap open then and with a sudden boost of strength he surges forward! It catches Monroe by surprise but Renard has seen enough of the Grimm’s reactions today to act quickly. He catches Nick by his shoulders and holds him tight as he fights in the throes of poison once again. 

“Come on, mon gamin. I know you don’t see it just now, but this will help you. Just stay with me... fight the poison...!”

Monroe hears, somewhat disbelieving, what the Royal whispers into Nick’s ear, as he holds him cradled to his chest in a protective, vice like grip.

Despite what he has suffered through already Nick has never felt something as terrible as this!! It feels like he’s burning from the inside out, like something is actually _eating_ through his flesh slipping in through his wounds. Where there was deadly cold before there’s only all consuming fire now! He screams, gargling sounds that are more animalistic than human and fights with all his might! Against the man holding him, against poison and antidote alike!

He doesn’t notices colour returning to his skin, isn’t even aware of the sinisterly black liquid that exude from the gashes along with even more blood. His world shifts, is cast in twilight as not only his body but his mind is affected by antidote and poison. In some deep recess of his mind he takes in the other man’s words, though, commits them to memory even while all other thoughts are jumbled and twisted around.

It goes on for almost forever or so it feels to all involved. A final hoarse cry, a final spasm, then Nick goes limb in Renard’s grip.

“Is he...? Has it worked?” Monroe voice vibrates with emotion and as his hand twitches toward Nick’s body he looks unsure if touching his friend will make it better or worse.

“I don’t know.” Sean tries to ignore how his own voice nearly cracks and instead focuses on finding an answer to Monroe’s question. He presses two fingertips to Nick’s neck. 

A pulse. Weak, slightly irregular... but irrefutably there. He exhales powerfully, looks up at the blutbad who mirrors his own expression of profound relief.

“Let’s lie him down somewhere comfortable... and then we’ll get off that icky black sludge and bandage those bloody gashes and....” Monroe rattles off in nervous agitation.

Just as Renard nods his acquiescence life returns to their Grimm. At first it’s just a twitch again, then some uncoordinated movements, which Sean gently guides once he gets what Nick wants to do. It is just like earlier when he sensed that the younger man wanted to curl up in his arms. 

“Easy, there. Go slowly.” His words are a low murmur.

Finally Nick is kneeling on the ground – and nearly under his own steam, no less! This more than anything is a sure sign that the Zwilicht-Trank worked. 

His head is tilted forward, face obscured by dark, sweaty bangs. 

Maybe it is exactly _this_ , which makes the next moment all the more creepy:

“Y’ hap’y now?” The Grimm’s voice is a barely audible croak but there’s so much distrust, so much darkness in there that Monroe gasps in shock. It is not him who Nick addresses, though, it is the Captain – fixing him with an intense glare as he slowly, shakily raises his head.

“I hav...en’t forgotten, y... you know? And you cannot make... me!”

“Nick, what are you talking about? ...”

Sean raises his hand, signalling for Monroe to fall silent. He knows what going on. Monroe is meaning well but this is not the time. In his periphery vision he sees the man frown, visibly reign in his wesen side and finally back down to watch.

Sean captures Nick’s gaze.

“It was not my intention to do that. Nor was it my intention to hurt you. But it was necessary.” He speaks slowly, exuding calmness he doesn’t feel.

“How is it... that I can... (deep breath) hear your brother Eric saying exactly... exactly the same thing after torturing me for the keys?” It comes out in a hoarse whisper, fairly dripping with cynicism now.

“That is because you know my brother to be a sadist and a bastard... in the insulting sense of the word.” There’s a pause in face of those words. 

_Nick, you cannot trust him! He wanted to make you forget! He wanted you to become a heartless killer like your ancestors. And you don’t want that, do you? To kill your friends... to kill innocents... losing yourself...._

_You, yourself called him out on wanting to chug a zaubertrank down your throat...._

_...to make you forget!!_

The voice in Nick’s head is cold and cruel but so true... where does it come from 

_But it is telling the truth, isn’t it?_

_> >> _

Sean doesn’t let the words shake him. This is not something to be resolved with anger or emotion. Actually, they can only wait Nick out for this is Twilight Draught working. It cures todesqual poisoning even at a near fatal point but – as its name implies – where there is light there’s also darkness. It not only heals, and gives strength for a time; it also induces suspicion, brings forth distrust. And if he’s honest with himself, between the two of them there’s more than enough mistrust for any Twilight Draught to work with.

“And how, ... _dear Prince_ , do I know that all that doesn’t apply to you, too?”

“You’ll know that it doesn’t, if you think about it. I know it is hard admitting this to yourself right now but you _are_ feeling better than you’ve felt these past few hours, aren’t you?”

Nick remains stubbornly silent but Sean and Monroe both know him well enough to know he is thinking about the Captain’s words.

 _Are you really feeling better? No, you feel weak and confused... you can practically **feel** your memories, you identity slip away! ... He wanted to make you forget!_

As if to counteract the voice memories resurface from the depth of Nick’s mind:

...

_‘You can do this. I know you are as stubborn as hell. You’ll give me gray hairs well before my time both as a Grimm and as my Detective, so use some of your thick headedness now!’_

_..._

_‘Come on, mon gamin. I know you don’t see it just now, but this will help you. Just stay with me... fight the poison...!’_

Memories, dark and light, fight within him! It hurts so damn much. 

Zauberbiest and blutbad exchange glances, having a silent conversation about what to do now.

Finally Sean nudges his head toward the second zaubertrank still remaining on the hut’s table. Nodding Monroe hands it over. He doesn’t know what that zaubertrank will do or how Renard intents to get Nick to take it but at least he’s reasonably sure now that the man won’t hurt his friend. So he sits back – literally –and watches carefully.

Sean takes this as his cue to unscrew the vial and hold it out to Nick, who’s still kneeling on the floor – swaying slightly, but otherwise motionless, his posture stiff and slightly hunched over.

The small glass container is directly in front of him – approximately at chest height – but Nick doesn’t take it. Just stares at it, lips compressed to a thin line.

“Nick.” It is mild admonishment and a prompt.

“It will relieve the pain you are experiencing.”

“You cannot make me take it!” Nick’s voice might be leaden with weariness but there’s heavy determination as well.

Still, that he doesn’t slap the vial away means that either he’s too weak or that they have gotten somewhere trust-wise.

Nick takes a deep breath to steady himself, it’s all so confusing!

Sean watches him carefully. He waits another few breaths – keeping the vial right there, near his face but not so near as to be threatening – before he speaks:

“That is not entirely true. Nick, you _are_ already taking it.” Nick’s head snaps up, blue, pain clouded eyes focusing on him.

“What?!” Confusion battles with betrayal.

“It is of a vaporous kind and by now you have breathed in enough of the fumes to get you through the worst the after-effects.”

Nick’s hand shoots out to slap the glass container away but the zauberbiest is too fast, pulling it out of reach with an almost pitying shake of his head.

“Not a chance, Nick. We need the rest for later.” Nick wants to rebels, to fight and scream but before he can do anything more than stare, heavy sleepiness crashes over him like a wave.

He mobilises his last reserves, anyway. Survival instinct and burning anger makes him lunge forward with all his remaining strength because in his delirious mind Sean Renard is the enemy – the man who drugged him against his will with a substance unknown to him!

The bastard Royal catches his fist inches from his face. His movement is controlled, done with precisely as much effort as is necessary to stop the Grimm. Time seems to be frozen as they stare at each other. Sean can see wakefulness and that normally inextinguishable will to fight leave Nick’s eyes. Almost gently he pushes him back and this time it’s Monroe who catches him when he finally sinks backward in unconsciousness.

Monroe eyes Renard warily at first but then, quite suddenly, a sly grin shows up on his scruffy features.

“That was decidedly sneaky. Neat trick, I have to say.” Sean is surprised to hear respect in the clockmaker’s words.

Monroe adjusts his hold on his friend with the same tenderness Sean has witnessed earlier. It doesn’t seem to fit the man or his relationship with Nick and yet it seems like the only thing possible. This is not about romance – Monroe is firmly in the Rosalee camp there – it is about a friendship that has grown over years to this state of implicit trust.

Sometimes Sean envies those two but then again, his own relationship with the Grimm is changing, too. Maybe it is becoming closer and growing at a faster rate than either of them realises.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention a bumpy ride?  
> ... But as we already established: A bumpy ride makes the payoff all the sweeter. ;D  
> Hope I got this first forray into deeper waters about right. 
> 
> By the way:  
> mon gamin = my brat


	7. A Wolf And A 'Biest

 

Chapter 7: A Wolf And A ‘Biest

 

Monroe's eyes rove over his friend’s body, takes in every ugly detail of sickness and injury; feels heartbeat and body heat under his hands. Mentally he’s taking inventory of Nick’s health and relieved when he comes to the conclusion that he is battered as hell but alive and on his way back from the edge.

 

“Hell, no offense, but Nick still looks like death chewed out and warmed over... like three times.”

 

Sean cannot say no to that. His Grimm is unnaturally pale, sweat covers his brow and there are heavy dark shadows under his eyes. And that is not even mentioning the various scratches and bruises he has acquired over the course of the evening. Going by how he looked in the morning – strong, watchful and healthy – you wouldn’t know the two were one and the same person.

 

There are blood smears everywhere; Nick’s arm is fairly  _caked_ in it. This is what worries Sean the most. His Detective has lost more blood than even Grimm constitution can account for and it shows in his ashen, sickly complexion. With some effort he rises from his crouch and surveys the small room, taking that time to regain some measure of strength and calm. 

 

First aid kit: still well stocked and ready for another attempt at treating Nick, the floor: smeared with blood and black neutralised poison just as much as they are... definitely in need of cleaning. But first things first.

 

Sean let’s his wesen side come forth, just a tiny bit, gathering strength from it after those last gruelling hours. He wants to sleep or at least rest and clean up but this is not the time for it. There are much more pressing matters to be addressed such as a man under his command and protection who is slowly bleeding out.

 

_And this isn’t only about him being your subordinate, is it? This is much more about...._

Forcefully he banns that line of thought from his mind before he can finish it.

 

When he turns back he finds Monroe watching him with some emotion he cannot quite discern. Despite instincts honed by years of living among Royals he takes a moment to understand.

 

It’s concern. No wonder he didn’t catch that one.

 

Uncomfortable with that knowing stare the Prince raises an eyebrow in challenge and unconsciously draws up to his full, impressive height. He cannot deceive the clockmaker, though, not fully at least as becomes apparent by his next words:

 

“One hell of a night, wasn’t it?”

Sean surprises himself by slowly, nearly imperceptibly nodding, then stoops low to grab Nick’s ankles and help Monroe place him on the camp bed.

 

“Time to patch up that arm. This time hopefully without Nick destroying my work.”

 

While Monroe heeds out for fresh water Renard stretches Nick out on the camp bed. Carefully he rips away the rest of the shirt finally laying open the whole extent of damage. The last few hours have done nothing to improve his state. Sean’s hands ghost over battered skin; find a bump on the back of Nick’s head along with more bruises on his side and of course, those bloody gashes. The zauberbiest takes in every injury, every mark, commits them to memory, vowing to address every single one.

 

_It confuses him! Where does this protectiveness come from? He’s simply not the protective type. Hell, had you asked him a few days earlier he would have freely admitted to not being a caring person at all._

 

Self-preservation (and ambition, if he’s honest with himself) has always come first.

 

But over the last hours something has shifted in him. Something has come to the forefront that he cannot identify. He’s pragmatic and shrewd. He can deal with machinations and deceit, with unruly Detectives (one in particular) and narrow minded politicians. This, though, has him floundering. So in lieu of occupying himself further with these disturbing emotions he shifts his focus back to his original goal: Healing his Grimm.

 

Just as he lays out supplies for a second attempt Monroe returns with water. He has even managed to find a few useful herbs known to wesen for their healing qualities. He shows them to Sean, keeping still as if waiting for a verdict.

“Those will do. Anything is better that what we have right now.”

 

“That’s what I thought. How about you clean him up and I grind this to a mush we can put on his wounds?”

 

Methodically Sean wipes away blood, poison and dirt. The wounds are reddened around the edges, looking painful and inflamed. His motions are careful but efficient. No one seeing him would have suspected that Captain Renard had a gruesome night and is dead tired. Behind that calm facade, however, emotions and thoughts are in turmoil no matter how much control he tries to exert. He looks down on the man, that saved his life tonight, on his Detective, who took a battering tonight that could very well have meant his death. He can still hear Nick’s screams. He knows that he will hear them for a long time yet... in his nightmares.

To distract himself he shoots a quick glance over his shoulder and finds Monroe making do with their resources with surprising inventiveness and competence.

 

“So you _did_ learn a few things from Miss Calvert?” 

Monroe bristles at that.

“Hey, I may not think much of traditions of bloodshed and gore but I _am_ a man knowledgable in wesen lore.”

 

Renard holds up his hand in a placating gesture even though the small smirk adorning his patrician features speaks a different language. Given Renard’s inbred shrewdness Monroe knows this is fairly light teasing, though. Maybe he can get along with this Royal better than he thought he could.

 

He takes the bowl of green mush over, holding it out to the Captain when he seems about finished with his ministrations.

 

The man takes it from him and takes a careful sniff, frowning in concentration. Monroe finds himself fascinated by this display of zauberbiest abilities. Apart from blutbaden, who are unrivalled in their olfactory senses, hexen- and zauberbiester have a keen nose especially when it comes to chemicals and herbs, enabling some of them to sniff out whole recipes just so. Up until now the Prince hasn’t shown his true abilities in that area, has let others do what was necessary. But as it seems, if needed, the man has quite a repertoire of knowledge to draw back on.

Finally Renard nods to himself.

 

“This is not half bad.”

He sounds as if he talks about some exotic pesto he just tasted but coming from a zauberbiest this is high praise, indeed. After all there’s practically no one in the wesen world with a better understanding of zaubertraenke and remedies than the ‘biester.

 

He watches as his mush is laden on a large sterile gauze pad and pressed onto wounds, which are still bleeding sluggishly. Silently Monroe moves to the Captain’s side taking up Nick’s arm so that a bandage can be applied. He is surprised. They function rather well together.

 

Now that urgent business is taken care of they take time to further wash and clean their companion.

That done Renard slips a hand under Nick’s head and neck – cradling him carefully and lifting his upper body – leaving Monroe to stand back in quiet fascination. He wouldn’t have thought the man to be this gentle, this tender even....

It somehow reminds him of pack behaviour... but that cannot be. Those two are colleagues, no more. Sometimes not even that. There have been times when they have been more enemies than anything else... but still.

 

Nick is tightly tucked under a thick blanket by his Captain. Monroe recognizes the advantages of this. It will warm him up and at the same time keep movement limited in case of a violent return to wakefulness.

 

Seeing his friend finally sleeping peacefully settles something in Monroe that he hasn’t known had been disturbed.

 

When the Captain lets go of his Grimm Detective and slowly turns around their gazes meet, linger... seize up each other. At the same time they release a bone weary sigh. It makes them smile the tiniest, awkward bit. Without exchanging words they find seats on the bare wooden floor, both stretching out long legs, both leaning back against the next available surface.

 

“Now, will you tell me, what the hell has happened to the two of you?”

 

Renard opens his eyes to mere slits and regards him with a certain degree of calculation. Then he visibly relaxes as if deciding that after all they’ve been through suspicion is too much of a hassle.

 

“We annihilated a Hexenbann’s wesen side. Never wondered, why Nick looked like he’s recently peed himself?” Monroe stares.

 

“Didn’t think about it... oh well... I _did_ wonder about it but I thought, _hey_ , this can happen... and in such fiendish circumstances no less...”

“I’ll pass on your concerns... and that you thought he had an accident like a toddler.”

 

Monroe scowls fiercely now. His eyes turn red – an obvious sign that this evening’s events have done a thing on his urge control – but just as soon as it’s appeared his expression clears and he actually gives a huff of laughter.

 

“Well, that was obviously the short version. Not that I want to pry....”

Sean just raises an eyebrow at that one.

 

“Okay, maybe I _do_ want to pry. But I think I have a right to after being called out to some forest hut in the middle of the night to save my good friend and local Grimm from some deadly poison.” 

The Captain seems to carefully contemplate his words. Finally he inclines his head.

“You do have a point there.”

And so he tells him.

 

“... Now that I think about it I would wager Veering was a defunct hexenbann. He could _kill_ with poison but not make ‘biester woge against their will. Hexenbanns are quite rare. There’s been incest, certainly.” 

 

He curls his lip in disgust.

 

“So you are saying that because of some genetic flaw he’s only half a hexenbann?”

 

“Exactly.” Renard shows a small ironic quirk of his lips, well aware of his own status as half-wesen.

 

“This is – to my belief – where the todesqual came into play. Veering needed someone to force the victim to woge....”

 

“And what’s better to make you woge than hurting like crazy.” Monroe finishes the thought. Sean inclines his head. He begins to understand why his Detective values the clockmaker’s help so much.

 

“It’s all theories and circumstantial evidence for now. At this point I’m not even sure we can process this through official channels but I’m working on that one.”

 

Monroe listens intently as the tale unfolds. He has always liked a good story and the Captain does know how to keep his audience hooked:

 

“... In that moment Nick looked like a warrior of an old tale. He leaped from a parapet encircling the ditch, landed and rode on Veering’s shoulders....”

 

“You mean, like children do?!”

The zauberbiest huffs quietly in amusement, his normally sharp gaze turning distant as he remembers.

“If you had seen him you would find no resemblance to anything a child would do. He looked....” Sean searches for the right word.

 

“Magnificent?” Monroe has meant this to be mocking but Sean cannot help but agree – even if only in his own mind. Instead he smirks.

“Nick would like that one. I shall pass that on as well... Surely it will take the sting out of that whole peeing business.”

 

“You are not going to let me forget that one, will you?” Monroe expects the Captain to show amusement, maybe a bit of malicious glee but instead his expression clouds over, turns troubled all of a sudden.

 

“I still wonder why the Twilight Draught used that particular memory. I have told you about our conversation in the car. ( _Heavily edited as that particular account may has been)_ It was no more than a snide remark on Nick’s side....”

 

It’s Monroe’s turn to frown.

 

“Maybe it was more than you think.” He mutters. Sean’s eyes narrow as he cocks his head in inquiry.

 

“Didn’t you know, Nick often jokes about things that make him afraid. He’s a true master of downplaying things... as infuriating as that sometimes is.” The blutbad rakes a hand through his hair tiredly.

“Hell, I’m not even sure I should tell you... but I think it will help you understand him better. So....”

Sean remains silent, waiting for the other man to elaborate.

 

“Jeez, how shall I put this? ... Just think about what it would mean for Nick to lose his memories... to lose himself... I mean, what his experiences have done to make him the man he is... to make him different from his ancestors... from his aunt even!”

 

Sean frowns in contemplation, gaze straying toward his Grimm Detective.

_Why should Nick be afraid of forgetting? Other than the obvious... that it destroyed his relationship with Miss Silverton... if_ _**that** _ _has been the ultimate reason, anyway..._

_The only other reason for his fear would be.... Oh, of course._

 

When the zauberbiest Prince raises his watchful gaze to meet with Monroe’s once more, confusion has given way to certain knowledge. Monroe has to admit this Royal has a sharp mind. He has no doubts; this man is where he is now, not because of some distant royal relatives but because he’s damn good at what he does!

 

“I see where he is coming from but Nick has to know that not only his experiences of the last two and a half years make him the man he is. Even without any memories of wesen... or more importantly his wesen friends he would never have turned out like his aunt.... He is simply better than that. There might be anger in him and a whole infuriating lot of stubbornness but he isn’t a cold blooded killer. His morals are higher than those of many a police officer I have worked with over the years.”

 

Monroe’s gaze turns imploring, wanting him to understand what this means for his friend.

 

“Come on, dude (despite the seriousness of the situation Renard can still impart a truly frightening death glare at being called _dude_ ) ... umm, sorry... well, anyway, this is _Nick_ we are talking about!

_We_ know that he has a heart much too big for his scrawny chest but that doesn’t mean that  _he_ knows!  _This_ is one of the things that make him who he is. He’s constantly worrying about others, even to the point of forgetting himself. Don’t get me wrong, he loved his aunt but even  _he_ was horrified at how ruthless a killer she’s been.”

 

“Putting it that way, it certainly fits his work attitude, both as a Detective and as a Grimm.”

 

There are long moments of silent contemplation. Finally Renard nods. Yes, he understands. Somehow, knowing Nickolas Burckhardt as he does, it makes perfect sense.

 

“Thank you. I know I am among the last persons you would have thought to discuss this with.”

 

“Honestly, before this night I wouldn’t have! And let me warn you, use this against Nick, so much as tease him about it and you will learn what a blutbad’s wrath is truly like!” For a moment Monroe shows his wesen side, shows the true beast, so different from the ‘biest that inhabits the Captain and yet equally as dangerous.

 

“I do understand and I appreciate the warning.”

Monroe nods slowly. He knows it goes against the Royal’s nature to even take that warning, much less be cowed by it. That he takes it seriously instils hope in Monroe. His gut tells him that Nick is important enough, even to the Captain, that he will actually heed it.

 

“Now, do you want hear the rest our evening’s adventure?”

 

Monroe looks definitely like a dog waiting for a treat now, so Sean continues his tale.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No direct Nick interaction in this chap. Hope I could make up for it by exploring a bit of Monroe's and Sean's dynamic...  
> Next chapter will have the full blast of Nick and co again.


	8. Darkness Approaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuh, I'm not sure about this one... I hope it's not too... Oh, I just don't know.  
> Anyway, I think I can officially scratch 'slight' off the 'slight trust issues' tag. And did I mention that stories do tend to develop a life of their own?  
> Hope you enjoy it and just so you know: You guys are all great and keep me going!!
> 
> Just so it isn't too confusing:  
> Twilight = Zwilicht (german), both used as a name for the antidote as well as its aftereffects

 

Chapter 8: Darkness Approaching

 

Nick’s return to awareness is a slow and painful one. Something is wrapped around him, tight and warm. He doesn't know whether to enjoy the warmth or panic at not being able to move much at all. He tries to distract himself, finds himself miserable and still in great pain. His right arm feels not like a limb belonging to him but like a mass of fiery agony. He is barely able to think straight, to take meaning from snatches of conversation reaching his ears.

“Okay, for how much longer do you think he'll be asleep?”

“Difficult to say. Knowing Nick, though, and his penchant for defying common expectations he could very well wake up soon.”

“Hmm.”

There's silence for a while. The Grimm lies still unable to make his body obey him enough to attempt opening his eyes just yet.

And then there's his mind. He has the feeling that somehow he's able to think clearer than last time he was awake but he cannot place why or what that means... and there's still a presence at the back of his thoughts:

_Listen to what they say... listen to what the Bastard says. You need to understand in order to defend yourself._

No matter how far down he still is, the Grimm knows that he has to shake off that insidious whisper! It is like a black mass clinging to him, like something foreign trying to manipulate and control him.

_No one is going to control me! I am free to make my own decisions... to make my own way!_

Now that his mind has made that leap Nick can finally place what is different from before: He is aware of that whisper's nature. It's twisted, evil, suspicion in its purest form.

But already it is pulling him under again! Keeping still to cover his waking state for a bit longer he mobilises his strength and his reserves.

_To do what? …_

_To fight them..._

_No! I must not fight them! They are helping... they are friends!_

_Is that so? The Prince betrayed you... he drugged you..._

_Yes, he did so and that was right a bastardly thing to do but I feel better! And I see you for what you are now... I won't let you twist me around! **You** are poisoning me! _

“Look. Nick is stirring. He looks like....” Apparently Monroe doesn't have the words to describe just what Nick is looking like.

“It's as I said. He's already breaking rules again. And he's fighting whatever demons are still left in him.”

No matter how much he wants to, Sean cannot keep a certain note of pride from showing itself. This confuses Nick, who cannot decide if he should be offended by the words or feel warmed by what that tone of voice tells him.

“This is not over, though.” It's Renard again

“What do you mean? We gave him the antidote hours ago, he must have slept off the rest of that stuff by now, must he not?”

“Most likely he hasn't. To annihilate the rather... undesirable after-effects we have witnessed earlier he has to reach a state of complete relaxation. That's where a second dose of zaubertrank comes into play. He's already fighting the Zwilicht in him, which means that the first dose has done some good, but I would wager it wasn't enough. That antidote brought him back from the brink of death and as you should well know, the stronger a zaubertrank's effect the more extreme is what it takes from you... in whatever form that may happen.”

And it is true. Looking down upon his Grimm he can see his inner struggle, that undying will to fight, reflected in his expression. He's still caught up in twilight and looking as pale and sick as he still does, Sean knows that he will barely be able to fight back!

He keeps his gaze trained on their Grimm, away from the observant clockmaker, well aware that at this point too many emotions break through his normally impassive mask. A foreign but entirely too intense feeling clenches his gut but before he can analyse it more closely Monroe speaks up.

“How do we know if he's still under its influence?” He asks uneasily. No matter that it isn't primarily him that Nick's suspicion will target, it doesn't sit right with him at all that his friend's mind is muddled by some creepy antidote that was supposed to cure an even creepier poison.

“Oh, believe me, we _will_ know.”

For the blutbad's liking there's definitely too much bitter humour colouring the zauberbiest's voice. Especially as he knows Renard is nowhere near amused but rather resigned to the fact that right now Nick believes him to be the reincarnation of pure evil.

He is a bit disconcerted by Renard's continued avoidance of eye contact, but that may be just because he is fiercely protective of his Detective and keeping an eye on him. And protective the man is! It shows clearly in his stance, in nearly imperceptible actions... and in his scent. No matter how well he has mastered his emotions, the being that can fool Monroe's sense of smell has yet to be born.

He practically reeks of the need to take care, to shelter... be that from outside danger or from Nick causing harm to himself.

Monroe doesn't mention any of his observations, though, he values his life and limbs, after all.

 

>>>

 

When Nick finally manages to open his eyes his vision is fuzzy at first, even the dim light of the hut hurting him.

“Uuugh.” At his quiet groan Monroe appears in his field of vision. The Grimm squints, blinks and at last gets his eyes to focus on his friend.

“Hey, dude. It seems that our Sleeping Beauty has made his way back to the land of waking at last.”

These gruff words are totally belied by the blutbad's gentle tone. He keeps his voice low so not to stimulate the Grimm's overloaded senses further.

“Big... ba' wolf jokin' 'bout fairy tales? ... no' funny.”

Despite superior hearing Monroe has to strain his senses to get what his friend wants to say. When he does, he scowls making the haunting ghost of a smile appear on Nick's chalk white face.

“Hey! I won't take a 'big bad wolf' comment from someone who has his own fairy tales written about him, just so you know.”

“I' I am Sleepin' Beauty... you a' big ba' wolf. Cope wi' it.”

Monroe chuckles and relents. Hearing Nick joke around with him makes him so giddy with relief that he thinks he'll burst. He plants his hands on his thighs for a moment to keep them from shaking until he has regained control over himself.

“How about we freshen up our Princess, then. With your hair plastered to your thick head like that you won't get your Prince Charming.”

While the clockmaker prattles on he begins to wipe away sweat with a tenderness Nick has never received from him before... has never _needed_ to receive before now.

For a moment he closes his eyes, simply enjoying a feeling of cold on his overheated skin but upon opening them again he perceives movement in his periphery vision. Someone is moving, as minutely as the movement is.

_How could he have forgotten?! The Captain!_

Dark feelings rise within him, making him jerk upwards to get himself into a better position.

_To do what?..._

_To fight?... No!_

The same questions and answers again and again and still Nick cannot break through.

“No need to get up on my account. Safe your strength, you'll need it for later.”

Renard's cultured tone drives him crazy, makes him growl lowly before he can check in his reaction. Monroe, shooting the Captain an exasperated look that clearly says 'Maybe a bit less snobbishness would help here!', intervenes:

“Nick, he's not mocking you. I _mean_ it! Your Captain has done his best to help you tonight... even when you were unconscious and wholly unable to appreciate any of it. He's not doing this for his own benefit, dude.”

As opposed to Monroe's earlier attempt to appease his friend, this time he seems to listen to his words. After long moments mistrust and anger are replaced by frustration and regret.

“Sorry.” Hesitant, barely loud enough to hear but there... a first step.

Monroe exchanges a glance with Renard who still keeps his distance to lessen any negative effects of the Zwilicht-Trank. The man gives nothing away, but he nods minutely, at least acknowledging that this is some progress.

“Good. Now that we have established that no one truly wants to kill the other, let me explain how we get you well again: As we've just seen – in a rather spectacular fashion – there are still some irksome side effects in play... and I am aware that that puts it lightly....”

“Monroe, you are rambling.” Renard. Of course.

Sean cannot help it. Going back to Royal aloofness is like a defence mechanism. In a sea of emotions he cannot place this is familiar ground. Monroe will have to cope... he will have to reign in this instinctive waspishness with Nick, however.

“Uugh, yeah, sorry, getting off topic. Anyway, to get that bit of Twilight to leave you, you need to relax... _completely_.”

The younger Detective looks up at him with something akin to desperation.

“Okay, okay. I know you are already doing your best, Nick. I know you are already fighting this, and man, you have my admiration for that because, honestly, I know of no one as strong willed as you are, mate....”

The blutbad waves his hands to illustrate his point, finally falling silent once he notices Nick's helpless expression. He takes a moment to gather himself.

“What you need to do is to take a second dose of what the Captain gave you... the second zaubertrank, I mean.”

This has an intense effect:

Nick's features darken, twist and grimace in silent testament to his inner struggle:

_You hear him! They want to poison you!! The Royal Bastard will force you...!_

…

“ _Nooo!!”_ The last bit comes out in a loud roar, overriding abused vocal chords, overriding pain and weakness. The Grimm comes out, lending strength where there should have been nothing left, where there _is_ nothing left! Nick shoots up into a sitting position – blanket not holding him this time – struggling with the Zwilicht within him. Gasps of breaths make his chest heave explosively. He turns slowly, setting them all on edge, focuses ink black eyes to pin Renard on the spot – a feat few have ever managed.

“I... will not... fi...ight you.”

Careful impassiveness gives way to shock, to surprise, patrician features going slack momentarily.

“If you want... to persuade me.... Help... me.” Nick whispers before Twilight can twist him around again. It is only a short glimpse, a single moment in time, revealing what the man truly feels.

When Sean speaks, his voice isn't smooth. He hates that fact! Not because he doesn't want to show his Detective that they will safe him, but because he's not in control anymore. He bloody hates loss of control... but Nick is more important. The realisation is startling, so he ploughs on knowing that they will hear more than he is saying.

“I will... we will... I know you are stubborn enough to pull through.”

Velvet has turned to gravel, changed by shared pain, barely noticeable but enough for Nick and Monroe to catch.

And that in itself is an admission not many have ever been shown by the reclusive, shrewd zauberbiest. With this thought Nick slips to the side, eyes rolling into the back of his head and fainting from sheer pain and exhaustion.

 

>>>

 

Their Grimm has drifted in and out of consciousness for some time, paying the prize for overexerting himself. It's taken another two hours, but now Nick is ready. Supported by Monroe he is sitting up, waiting for dizziness to fade to the background. Mentally he prepares himself. A last steadying breath.

Nick takes the open vial from his wolverine friend with a shaking hand. His common sense tells him that this is good for him, that he feels better already. This is what he needs in order to shake off what is truly making him a different man.

He steels himself, intents to take a deep breath of vaporous potion....

_This will help me! This will help me!!_

It's like a mantra. He catches a tiny whiff of zaubertrank smell...

and his flashback of the last time this has happened is so strong that he hurls that vial across the room, making it shatter against a wall, before he fully comprehends what he's doing.

...

“ _That is not entirely true. Nick, you are already taking it.”_

…

“ _Not a chance, Nick.”_

…

“Nick!!” Monroe's yelp is wrought with shock and bordering on panic. Nick cannot calm his friend's fear. The memories, his doubts, it all overwhelms the young Grimm with such terrifying force that he grabs his head, clutches thick strands of hair while rocking back and forth in desperation.

His injuries make him pay for each and every movement, make him drown in a roaring blaze of hurt! Even worse is his mind, however:

_They want to hurt you... they will make you into a killer... so much blood..._

_No, they won't!!_

Slowly Nick raises his head. He needs an anchor, something to concentrate on other than that voice inside. Regret at what he's done fills haunted grey eyes. He seeks out their gazes nonetheless. He needs to and at the same time he fears what he will see; what it will do to him.

Monroe sports an expression of dismay and deep worry while the Captain's face is carefully blank. But there's more to it. Behind an emotionless facade, deep inside, feelings are hidden:

Empathy, worry, he's hurting... for him?

Nick doesn't consciously comprehend how unusual it is for Renard to even show this much but deep down in a place where other memories are stored this new information asserts itself, adds to a picture of the man he hasn't had before.

This clear focus is short lived. Already Twilight rears its ugly head again and Nick has to look away least he tries to hurt the zauberbiest! He's breathing heavily by now, the gravity of his stupid action weighting upon him as common sense gets the upper hand for a time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will finally entail what I thought I would put up two chapters ago... so much about stories getting a life of their own. ^, ~"


	9. Hexenwerk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. Finally the show down, if you want to call it that.  
> *wring hands*  
> soooo not sure about this one. -.-"

 

Chapter 9: Hexenwerk

 

_They explained this to him. He needs to relax completely in order to leave behind that foreign presence residing in his mind._

 

He tries that now, taking deep breaths but instead of growing calmer he feels true panic rising. He cannot do this! He still hurts too damn much to function properly! And then there's that darkness. It revolts him, chills him and yet he has to _listen_....

 

_Don't trust... wants you to forget... you will turn out a killer!_

 

_No, he doesn't!! I won't! He has helped me!_

… _mon gamin..._

 

It pops up out of nowhere, echoing through his mind. Twilight cannot twist this one for he doesn't know what it means. He only has the timber of the Captain's voice to go on and that is warm, compassionate and … loving? There's worry and desperation as well...

 

A warm hand touches his good shoulder. He flinches badly but the hand stays. Nick looks up in desperation. Only now does he notice how sallow and irregular his breathing has become.

 

The warm presence belongs to Monroe who looks down on him with compassion.

 

“Hey, dude, calm down a bit, will you?” His words aren't gruff or mocking, they are soft and soothing.

 

“I'm sorry.” Hoarse as Nick's voice has been before it actually breaks now.

 

“Do not be. This isn't your fault. It's Twilight at work.”

It is the first time Renard has spoken since Nick has taken that vial. He keeps his distance even now, aware of the effect he has on his Grimm Detective.

Sean sees Nick's inner struggle. As always he is fighting with claws and teeth when others would long have succumbed. It evokes an ache in the Prince that is frightening in it intensity.

 

_Where does this come from?!_

 

Resolutely he turns his attention back to the other occupants of the hut. They cannot take Nick away from here before he has thrown off the after-effects. He is for all intents and purposes still delirious no matter how hard he fights that influence. A cold shiver runs down Renard's back.

 

_I will not let that damned zaubertrank win! I managed to survive decades of royal deceit, I should well be able to defeat some zaubertrank effect! And I will not lose Nick or see him suffer any more either!_

 

The strength of those emotions frightens him, _truly_ frightens him because in normal circumstances he's not even used to feeling _at all_. If anything, though, it strengthens his resolve. There is a way to help his Grimm. It is risky and something he's never considered doing before, not in circumstances like these, anyway.

 

In fact, each and every instinct screams at him not to offer, not to do this because it would move him into a position of vulnerability. And still he finds himself speaking, not seeking Nick's gaze so that he is least threatening as possible, declaring calmly:

 

“There is another way to help you.”

Nick's head whips up.

“Don't look at me!!”

The command lashes through the room like a whip and yet there is a desperate edge to Renard's voice that Nick has never heard before. Despite that order the Grimm has already glimpsed the Captain's face and what he sees burns itself into his memory despite Twilight's working.

 

There is fear, not for himself but for another living soul. To be honest, no matter what good deeds Renard has done as a Police Captain, Nick has never glimpsed such an emotion on the man, has never seen true empathy for someone else. Until now.

 

He expects Twilight to bud in again, but the novelty of recognizing those feelings in the man, of recognizing _who_ those feelings apply to, it is somehow stronger than suspicion and fear.

 

Nick forces himself to look at Renard, catching his gaze, holding it, showing his Captain that Twilight has not killed everything in him. Sean complies with his silent request, looks back until the very last moment....

 

Finally Nick lowers his gaze, exhaling heavily. This has cost him. He sways where he sits hunched over on the camp bed. Still. This is important, maybe even a crucial turn.

 

Monroe keeps silent throughout all this. Something has changed between his two companions. He would have expected Renard to get angry or resigned at Nick's defiance.

_After all, doesn't this mean that their Grimm does not listen to him at all anymore? And yet the nearly palpable tension seems to have dropped a bit. It even smells differently..._

Monroe knows that smell.

_It's... no, it cannot be...._

Surely this whole disaster must have muddled his senses.

_This cannot be the scent of pack bonding... this is...it surpasses comradeship entirely...._

 

Renard speaks again, cutting off the blutbad's inner monologue:

“I apologize for my outburst. Holding eye contact with me strengthens the Zwilicht so for now, just try to listen.”

Nick only nods. Sean prepares himself. They might not have the time but if there's to be a chance of success he needs to explain this properly.

 

“What I will attempt is a skill only hexen- and zauberbiester may posses. It is called hexenwerk, which loosely....”

“You are able to do an empowered touch?!”

Monroe's outburst is sudden and accompanied by an expression of slack jawed astonishment. Nick for his part is confused and risks another glimpse at Renard, gaze going back and forth between the two men.

 

“Yes.” Renard may have looked like a teacher lecturing his students if it weren't for a slight self ironic quirk to his lips.

“Needless to say, 'biester do not get to use this particular power of theirs very often.”

“You bet.” Monroe mutters with a huff of sarcastic laughter, making Nick finally voice his questions. Something is going right over his head here.

 

“Why? What are you talking about?”

“Why don't you explain it to him?” This is Renard succinctly addressing Monroe. Somehow it sounds rather disconcerting. Nick has worked with the man long enough to know that this kind of tone means Monroe has insulted him and doesn't get it.

 

“Oh, well. Nick you see, the thing about hexenwerk or empowered touch as we call it in the states is that it can only be done with the recipient's consent. And here I do not mean something as trivial as saying 'Yes' or 'No', this is about _mental_ consent. So if you are not 100% okay with what an enacting 'biest wants to do to you, it won't happen. But lets face it, when have 'biester ever wanted to do something _good_ for another being? So yeah, I wager they really do not get to use that skill very often.”

The blutbad seems really intent on digging his own grave today, even Nick can see that. Silence ensues, broken only by a groan from Monroe. The blutbad blushes fiercely. Finally he's got it!

 

“Uhh, sorry, man. That didn't come out right, did it?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation Renard displays a decidedly shark like smirk.

“Oh, you think so? I'm touched by your unadulterated opinion of my race. So much for unprejudiced minds. Not that _you_ would know anything about unfounded beliefs against your own kind, would you?”

 

There's a fair amount of sarcasm there. Nick recognizes that particular tone of voice. The Captain uses it whenever one of his subordinates has done something truly stupid and is not realising it. For a moment he lets his friend stew, pinning him with his most fearsome commanding officer stare, then he relents.

 

“But I admit, what you say bears some truth. We are not known for our altruistic ways, that is for sure.”

The clockmaker, if anything, blushes harder. When suddenly Nick huffs a soft laugh, it surprises them all.

“Don't worry, Monroe. In my rooky days I have been at the receiving end of that tone more times than I can count. It stops smarting... eventually.”

 

It is a short glimpse but this appearance of their old Nick is something so unexpected that it puts a soft smile even on Renard's face.

“Good to know. And here I thought all my admonishments had fallen on deaf ears.”

Nick is careful not to look up, so as not to trigger Twilight again, but there's the trace of a smile still there.

 

“Back to the matter on hand. Hexenwerk, which loosely translates to 'a witches' doing', may alleviate pain, induce calm or relaxation, as well as a few other things. In short, it manipulates body and mind.”

 

Nick tenses as Renard has known he would. Without knowing why Sean feels bereft by this noticeable return to frostiness.

Not that he can fault his Detective for his reaction. If someone did not understand the particulars of hexenwerk this might be the most uncomfortable aspect of it. Hearing that someone is able to manipulate you is difficult to reconcile with under the best of circumstances but in this situation it is even worse – it instils even more fear.

 

And Nick wouldn't be the excellent Detective he is, if he didn't pick up on the most crucial fact at once:

“Monroe said, I would have to give my consent... but what if you tell me you are doing one thing and then you will do another?” There it is again, suspicion making his voice lower, darker. Nick may have long gone beyond his bodily limits but his mind is still as sharp as ever.

 

Renard takes his objections serious. As uncomfortable as he is with being completely honest, it is the only thing possible here. Anything less would not only insult Nick's intellect but push farther him away.

 

“I could tell you almost anything and still you wouldn't know if it is truth or lies. Would you believe Monroe, if he were the one to explain?”

“Maybe.”

“Then we shall try, shan't we?”

 

“So no pressure at all. Wonderful.” The blutbad grumbles.

“Why don't we put it into the clockmaker's hands, if Nick lets us save him....”

“Monroe.” Renard has made a disconcerting habit of doing this when the blutbad begins to ramble.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm just warming up. So then, Nick. In essence your Captain cannot tell you one thing and do another because whatever he does you will _know_ it!”

When Nick looks even more confused he tries again with a huff.

 

“Arrgh, this is difficult! You see, it is purely instinctual. As soon as Renard starts to infuse you with the energy or magic or whatever, that is needed to help you, your body will recognize what kind of energy that is and what it will do. Human and wesen are much more knowledgable that way than they know.”

 

Renard leaves Nick to chew that over while he takes refuge in a far corner of their hut. In order to do this he has to establish the right frame of mind, especially as it has been decades since he has last done any hexenwerk.

 

He hears the two friends talk, voices lowered. Apparently Nick has further questions. The zauberbiest lets it all fade into the background as he calms his heartbeat and his mind. Mastering himself is crucial to this.

 

>>>

 

“Captain?” Sean comes out of his meditative state, alert in less than a minute.

“Nick is as ready as he'll ever be, so... why don't you do your... uhm... hexenwerk?”

It is a testament to Renard's grave mood that he refrains from taunting Monroe for his overcareful wording.

“Before we do this, you will leave the room.”

“What? No!”

It appears in the space of a moment, Renard's presence seems to be growing. When he slowly turns to Monroe and pins him with his darkest glare he exudes power that the blutbad can only describe as regal.

“If I am to be doing this, you will give us privacy. I do not accept no for an answer. Either you will wait outside or I will make you leave.”

Monroe has to mobilise every ounce of resistance not turn tail at once. He wonders vaguely if this is some wesen and royal kind of thing and shudders despite himself.

 

“Why should he leave the room? What do you intent to do?” Nick is keeping his voice low, most likely because talking any louder hurts, but his tone brooks no ignoring it.

Renard sighs.

“I think I already explained my reasons.”

_Don't take that from him. He wants to betray you._

Nick does his best to fight the whisper inside his mind but he _does_ want to know so for once he gives in to its demand.

 

“You did. But that doesn't mean I have to accept them. What will happen that he cannot see?”

“Explain to him, why you want to stay despite my wishes.”

Monroe learns quickly what it is like to be working with the man when he's in full commanding mode. And he begins to understand why Renard's precinct is such an orderly one. He takes a deep breath.

 

_Man up, Monroe!_

 

“I want to stay, because should this fail not only your health is on the line but his as well. If it were only for you, I wouldn't be worried because, frankly, whether he knows it or not, your Captain would do anything to save you! But that is what worries me. He simply won't stop once his own body gives out.”

 

It is not as if the man growls or anything but he can practically _feel_ his aura swelling. Sure enough, when he looks from Nick (who seems contemplative now rather than aggressive) to Renard his eyes are blazing with anger. After a moment he visibly reigns himself in, which is an admission all on its own.

 

“I am aware that there are risks... to my own person. That is, however, no reason for you to stay. I... appreciate your concern but you are not helping. If I become a little worse for wear in the process, why don't you let Nick come to that conclusion by himself?”

 

Renard really is a shrewd bastard... in the complimentary sense of the word. It's taken Monroe a bit to catch on but now that he did he slowly nods. Nick looks from one to another torn between trusting and suspecting foul play.

 

_It's simple as that. Damn it, I do not like this... at all. Renard takes that risk deliberately because if this doesn't work, it will show Nick what he takes upon himself by trying. But maybe he doesn't have to. Maybe they'll manage without this._

 

“Okay, I will leave you two alone. Don't worry, Nick, you are in good hands, dude. (This is directed personally at his Grimm friend.) But if I hear _one_ thing, I'll come back!”

 

“No you will not.” Renard says this slowly, deliberately enunciating every word. The blutbad's expression turns mutinous before he deflates with a huff.

 

“We should proceed quickly. Nick does not look as if he's able to stay conscious much longer.” Renard's dispassionate observation is only too true. Monroe doesn't know how the hell that thick headed Grimm has managed but for a time he has hidden his true state from them. Now there's no more hiding, though. Nick sways on the spot and, if possible, he's gone even paler.

 

“Well, good luck.” Nick doesn't like how his friend's voice wavers.

 

_We need to do this! I need to relax._

With a jerky nod he prepares himself for what is to come. He can already feel his heart beat faster.

_Damn it! Not relaxing at all, am I?_

 

>>>

 

They are at it for ten minutes, sitting opposite each other, and have not even begun. Time after time both of them calm themselves as much as they can but every time Sean actually moves his hand towards him to touch and establish a bond the Grimm flinches back at the last possible moment.

 

“Nick, you have to let me try.”

“I know!” The younger Detective snaps, glaring in frustration and anger.

“I want to let you try... but I cannot...! You're not...!”

“Trustworthy?” Sean shoots back, voice deadpan.

“Yes!... No!... I just don't know!!”

 

His hand goes to his hair again, pulling at it violently while he fights every damned voice telling him not to trust his Captain. When his hand is taken in a firm grip and pulled away from where it is still harshly gripping his hair he flinches again, ready to lash out.

 

But what he sees takes all fight out of him. It is Renard – of course it is – pinning him with a stern gaze while pulling his hand down to his side. It is not only his actions, though, but the fact that the man is there at all. Of course, in his current state Nick is much weaker than the zauberbiest but still he deliberately puts himself at risk. They both know it:

 

A Grimm is at his most dangerous when cornered and already battered. Nick can see all those contemplations reflected in sharp green eyes. This was not an oversight on Renard's part but a conscious action. He has thought it all out, weighted his options, the dangers, surely coming to the conclusion that doing it would be risky....

 

But he is here, right in front of him... protecting him....

 

“You have suffered enough tonight, don't you think? Do not hurt yourself further.”

Nick gives a jerky nod, mirrored by Sean's own imperceptible one. The ghost of a tired smile.

“Let us try this. We have nothing to lose.”

 

_I haven't. You have... you are placing yourself at risk. To help me, not yourself._

Thinking this the Grimm dares to hope.

_Twilight has been quiet for these past moments... maybe we can do this...._

 

 _Maybe we can do this!_ It is like a mantra.

 

Renard's large, warm hand touches his neck now. He barely flinches at all and closes his eyes. That hand (and the one gripping his shoulder) is the only thing keeping Nick upright. They both know it. The Grimm has moved past what his body can cope with. Something begins to hum inside him.

Relaxation. Freedom from pain.

_Monroe was right. I know what he wants to do..._

 

_But do you know **why** he wants you relaxed and docile? _

_What?_

_There are so much possibilities once you are all tame...._

_No! We will do this, we can do this!_

 

Nick tries. He really does. His struggle is purely mental by now. There's nothing else left. While Renard fights his own demons, silencing each and every instinct telling him not to give, not to put himself at risk for a mere human being, cold fear grips Nick's heart.

 

Sean can feel the bond wavering even before its completely in place.

_Don't do this Nick. You are stronger than this!_

 

And in one aspect Sean is right. Not suspicion is Nick's undoing in the end but the fear what Twilight will do to him. How it will twist him around beyond recognition. That cold fear is enough to put a seed of doubt into him.

 

_Fuck, nooo! We can do this!!! I have to... to protect Sean... Monroe said so..._

 

The bond recognizes a struggle, Renard puts in every ounce of will to protect his Grimm.

…

_Or maybe we can not!_

…

 

The dark whisper is like an ultimate push making them tumble into abyss.

 

The last thing Sean sees are Nick's eyes turning liquid black as his Grimm rages forth! A moment of uncertainty – both of them frozen in time – hands shoving against his chest with such brutal strength that they may as well have cracked a few of his rips! Then he is thrown backwards, collides with the opposite wall of the hut.

His head, his back, a violent impact that leaves no room for breath, only sharp undulating pain. As he slides down the wall, as blackness nearly claims him he hears a most desperate howl!

“ _Nooo_!!!”

_What was this? Need... to breathe...._

He fights unconsciousness as his vision clouds over. Then there's a sudden movement, a crash! He tenses still trying to force air back into his lungs.

_This is Nick! What is he doing?_

 

>>>

 

As soon as Nick has forced his Captain backwards with a mighty shove his mind clears. Agony flares through his upper body, makes him gasp helplessly. He has used both arms, purely by instinct.

 

Like in slow motion he watches Renard fly backwards, watches dispassionately...

 

until the man crashes into the wall, shows pain and shock clearly on always guarded features... until he slides down, crumbling into a heap on the floor... unmoving.

 

“ _Nooo_!!!”

The word rips from his throat as he registers what has happened... what _he_ has done. It's not Renard doing the damage here, it is _him_!!

 

Without thinking Nick scrambles up from the camp bed, surges forward. He needs to _help_! His legs give way. They are not able to hold him. He crashes down hard, face connecting with unforgiving ground. Blood surges forward, from his nose and a split lip.

 

He disregards pain or dizziness or blackness trying to pull him under, though, and uses the last of his strength to move his head the slightest bit. He sees Sean now, there at the wall, exactly the way he has landed.

 

_Nooo!_

 

He has to help him! This is what _he_ has done.... Sean is not breathing, not properly, anyway. That ragged, rattling sound echoes through the small cabin, through Nick's head and mind.

_What have I done? Oh God Sean, what have I done to you?!_

 

Not knowing if he is okay nearly kills Nick. This is an agony worse than anything he has ever experienced. It rips at his innards, at his very soul!

He unable to move or to speak, has to wait in suspense as his heart is slowly ripped from his chest....

Or so it feels as he lies there on the floor, helpless and defeated.

 

_Please, Sean, don't be dead!! Please, don't do this to me!! I have to call for help... he needs Monroe to help him...._

 

Tears slide over his cheeks, mix with blood. This is unimportant, though. He needs to know! This is killing him! A tiny sound, wrought with all the pain of his tortured soul comes over his lips.

Unconsciously his hand moves, bit by bit, in direction of his zauberbiest. This shouldn't be possible. There's simply no strength left. But still his hand moves.

 

>>>

 

Sean has never felt this much pain. Not even when Kimura tortured him or Nick beat the crap out of him a few months ago... so long ago....

He takes rattling breaths, panic nearly overwhelming him, focuses his clouding gaze on the only other person in the room.

 

Watching Nick crash down hurts more than anything his own body can dish up. He sees thousands of emotions cross over his chalk white face. There's blood there as well... and tears....

 

When he notices those something in him breaks. Hidden power surges forward, enabling him to finally take a full breath, to ignore his own aches and limitations. He can only stare at his beloved Grimm, lying there, his eyes unmoving, unfocused, as tears pour out freely. He has never in all their time, be it as colleagues or enemies, seen him so completely defeated!

 

Nick's hand moves, inch by inch, trying to do what? To reach him of all people? It nearly tears him apart. Renard himself moves now. Slowly, every motion deliberate and fought for. He forces his own battered body to obey him, to take him to his Grimm.

 

When he feels wetness at his own face he's confused at first. Maybe he has finally gone 'round the bend and is hallucinating. He brings a hand up to touch skin.

He's not hallucinating, he is crying. Still he has only eyes for Nick, his beloved, broken Grimm, when he scrambles forward. He knows what he has to do. There's no doubt in his mind anymore.

 

>>>

 

At some point his mind must have shut down because when there's movement near him Nick can not remember seeing anyone actually move. Who is it? He's too far gone to recognize his 'biest at first but he can still hope.

_Sean. Please, be okay._

In the beginning it is only the smallest of noises but the more often he tries to say it, the clearer it becomes.

“S.... Se...an.” His hand is taken up by another one. Shaking but warm it is. Nick would have flinched if he had been able to. Still no recognition.

 

“Shhh. I'm here now. I'm here.” Something like awareness bleeds into Nick's being and strengthens, reawakens his mind.

 

And then without warning he is pulled up from the floor and into the most protective embrace he's ever felt. He is pulled up against a broad chest, against a shaking, reeling body nearly as weak as his own. Without looking he knows that Sean looks terrible. This not only about crashing into a wall. It is about what a failed attempt at hexenwerk does to you.

 

“Will you list... en to me?” Renard's voice is rough with emotion, barely there to be honest. This is neither Nick's superior officer nor the shrewd Prince, this is purely Sean. He doesn't know how to make him see without being able to move but apparently he's been understood for Sean speaks again.

 

“Good. What I have... to tell you... is important.” Every word is laborious beyond belief. Sean has trouble breathing that much is clear. Fear blooms in the Grimm's chest. Fear for his zauberbiest.

 

“Nick, know that... I can never change... you. Your fear... is unfounded. What makes you... who... you are... are not your... memories, or your friends...but this.”

A large hand touches his chest exactly where his heart is. It remains there, the body... _Sean's body_ trembling with the effort to keep going.

“This makes you... yourself. Your heart... and your goodwill... no one can... take that from... you. Not even I.”

Nick feels something wet drip onto his head. He cannot place what it is until he is gently turned, cradled anew so that his forehead is pressed against his beloved Captain's chest. He feels his heartbeat and he feels that bigger body shake with more than just weakness.

 

One warm hand is placed on his neck and the other stays where it seems to belong – above his heart.

 

Achieving a calm state of mind this time is the simplest of things. This is what he wants. There is no way around, no alternative to this. Finally Sean is at peace with himself for he is absolutely sure of his actions.

When he establishes the bond this time, he does it with a smile. This is how it should be. No matter how this ends, his beloved Grimm will be safe.

Either because his empowered touch will work...

or, failing that, because the threat Twilight Draught has chosen as an anchor will be no more...

 

“Stay... the way you are, mon gamin.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo not sure about this... cannot put my finger on it, why.  
> On the upside, this was my longest chapter, yet.  
> And sorry about another cliffhanger, I know I am evil.


	10. Into The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, let's hear what Monroe has to say about waiting outside while his companions try to save each other...  
> and, of course, what happens to our favourite duo.   
> Have fun!

Chapter 10: Into The Light

 

Monroe steps out of the hut, heavy weight pressing down upon his innards. The next half hour is one of the worst in his life. He can do nothing other than sit on those trice cursed rickety steps outside the door and listen to get an inkling about what is going on with his two stubborn and infuriating companions.

 

When he hears an almighty crash that shakes whole the cabin he's one step away from barging in and telling them just what he thinks of their plan but then Renard's last command rings in his head and with a growl he sits back down. Over his own sound of profound irritation he nearly misses a second, smaller crash. His head whips around to the door, scruffy curls flying, and he stares at the wooden boards as if this could give him answers.

 

_What are you two idiots doing?!? You should heal each other, not demolish the furniture!!!_

 

Oh how he wants to go in there and wash their thick heads! What are they thinking? Don't they know that he worries about them... yes, _them_?

_Arrgh, most frustrating! I should never have let Renard do this! Well, it's too late now, you should have thought about this before you let his Highness lull you in, Mr. Intelligent!_

 

There's some shuffling and really bad sounding moans.

_What the hell...?_

 

What comes next, though, is worse than those crashes or the moans and groans, even worse than the intensified smell of pain and fear. It is words Monroe never have wanted to hear in his life. These sound damn too much like the the last words of Captain Sean Renard!

_No, no, no, no, NO!!!_

Monroe doesn't know what he can do! Every fibre of his body yearns to get up and help but all the while he knows, if he steps in now he'll as good as murder the man by making his hexenwerk fail for a second time. A low feral growl builds deep in his throat, willing to be let out, scraping at the edge of his awareness. For a time he's in a limbo that is most likely desperation but might also be bone crushing sadness. He doesn't even notice that at some point he has clamped his hands onto his ears to stop any sound from reaching him.

 

And then there is silence. No matter if he tries to block out sounds, his hearing is far too well developed for that to be anything other than an expression of his emotional state. Of course, he still picks up when the noise level changes.

There are no words, no screams or moans...

 

there is only the sound of breathing.

 

...two sets breaths that are relaxed and even...

and wholly in sync with one another...

 

It takes some time for that last bit to sink in but when it does, Monroe wants to jump and crow in relief. He reigns in the impulse, however, knowing that although they seem to have reached a state of perfect symbiosis he mustn't disturb them now.

 

With a feeling of warmth settling in his stomach he retakes his position as silent sentinel on the stairs and instead of doing a happy dance scowls down upon the unconscious guy, who he knows by now is partly responsible for this dilemma. This is far better than dancing – quieter and much more dignified.

>>>

He pushes the door open with care this time. And once again he first sees Nick's Captain, kneeling on the ground, back toward him and supporting his friend. This picture is so much alike and yet so dissimilar from last time that it stops him dead in his tracks. He can only stare, take up scents, come to a few conclusions.

 

The sight of this controlled, distanced man hugging Nick to his much larger frame – cradling and sheltering him even while asleep – Monroe is sure that even feathery wings coming out of the man's back and curling around the Grimm couldn't have expressed a deeper level of care.

 

_Of love... just say it, dude! That's what it is, anyway, no matter if those two thick headed fools see it or not._

 

Having reconciled with that fact in his own mind he turns his attention to more immediate things such as a laceration marring the back of Renard's head which is still bleeding sluggishly. The blutbad knows that no matter what he does right now, Nick and the Captain won't wake up. Nick's condition was too grave for that. They have both gone well beyond their limits.

_Maybe that's not the worst thing. The thought of a Royal waking while you are patching him up without his express permission is a bit frightening._

He moves around them, bundles them up with blankets and finds a grin springing to his lips when he notices that somewhere along Nick's arms have slung around his Captain's middle, not seeming likely to let go anytime soon. _Seems like Sleeping Beauty finally got his Prince Charming. Nick will kill me, when I tell him this. Oh well, I don't care. I'll tell him anyway... can't be worse than the peeing business._

 

He dresses Renard's wound, huffing and grumbling about inconveniences as is his way, and bandages the man's head to keep a sterile gauze pad in place – all without the zauberbiest stirring in any way. Monroe is sure that this isn't the only injury he has sustained. After all, if his guess is correct, Renard crashed into a wall, but it is the only one he can see so far so it will have to do for now.

>>>

Sean comes out of a deep trance like state. It takes some time to grow aware of his body and mind again and even more time to grasp where he is and what has happened. This enactment of hexenwerk has been intense. Never before has he been gone this deeply. Normally when using empowered touch one does not go under like this. It is more like touching someone with intense attention to every detail of his body and general state... maybe a kind of caress or ongoing touch while infusing the recipient with energy of a certain variety.

This has been more... Nick has needed more... they both did.

 

Finally he is able to open his eyes, first gaze falling onto his Grimm, his sweet, peacefully sleeping, healthier looking Grimm.

A tightness squeezes his chest that has nothing to do with fear but everything with relief beyond what he is able to process at the moment and maybe with being generally unaccustomed to such intense feelings. Slowly but surely warmth spreads where before there has been doubt.

 

For once the proud Prince doesn't repress a soft smile.

 

_Nick lives. I have saved him. Together we have saved us both.... what a peculiar feeling... to preserve instead of destroying or controlling...._

 

He does not move. Simply stares down at Nick, practically bundles himself around him in a protective embrace. He cannot believe they managed to get out of this alive... he cannot stop staring at his brat.

 

_A stubborn brat he is, indeed!_

… _Stubborn enough for both of us... to survive... for us to find each other._

It frightens and warms him in equal measures what he feels for his Detective and yet, for once in his life, he is absolutely sure that his feelings are reciprocated. For one there are Nick's arms still tightly wound around his middle. But there's also a deep insight into the whirlwind that are Nicholas Burckhardt's thoughts and emotions that he has somehow gained, when they have connected on a far deeper level than is normal for hexenwerk.

_But this situation isn't normal, is it? So why am I surprised? This is Nick._

But hell, normally there is no connection of this kind at all... except if there's love....

 

No matter how open he is, even his self honesty has its limits, and fully embracing that last thought and its implications, apparently, is one of those things. Instead he closes his eyes again. He hurts. Still does despite any positive effect his empowered touch has had on himself. He needs to rest, to regroup.

 

The powerful Prince of Portland trusts his instinct. He does the only thing he knows will calm him down. Renard buries his nose in Nick's dark locks, inhales deeply and finds a kind of peace he has not imagined possible. He learns just now that control of your mind and peace of mind are two very different things – one he has always been proficient at obtaining while the other he has never experienced before no matter how skilfully he has deceived himself so far.

>>>

When he comes around Nick does what police training has taught him, he takes stock – of himself and of the situation.

His body, he feels better. Still like crap and nearly as weak as a kitten but not like he has passed a point of no return. Better than... before.

His mind, lighter than a feather if he goes by comparison, not poisoned by suspicion anymore. No, the Grimm realises with bitter sweet relief, everything dark inside him is his very own, born out of his experiences and not by an antidote's after-effect.

 

Now to his surroundings. At once a cold feeling settles in his gut. Something isn't right but he cannot put a finger on what it is. His mind is far too hazy still but every instinct screams at him that he misses something important!

 

_I am healed! Why am I still so fucking groggy?_

… _Healing... hexenwerk..._

_Oh God, where the hell is Sean?!?_

 

He shoots up from... well not from the ground, not out of his Captain's embrace but from the lonely camp bed. His vision white washes as a strong dizzy spell hits him. He blinks a few times. His vision stays blurry... too blurry to see in near darkness.

_Damn it!_

The Grimm wants to smash something.

_I am healed! That must mean we have both survived! Or does it not?_

Sean's last words echo through his head. He hears what his 'biest couldn't say with words. Finality, a farewell. Nick can feel bile rising up his throat.

_No, no, no! That cannot be... it mustn't be! This cannot have been the prize for my well being! Sean, where are you?_

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed before his remaining strength leaves him.

_Okay, we'll see, if some damn injuries and a bit of a blurred sight can keep me from finding him!_

He heaves himself up, takes a step, looks up when his vision finally clears....

“Nick, what are you doing?” That cultured tone and deep timber.

Sean.

He has not heard him approach. Strong hands grab his shoulders just as his knees buckle. This is not about weakness, this is about relief so overwhelming that it nearly makes him pass out. But Nick will let nothing come between himself and his Captain, not even his own weakened body. His hands shoot forward, grab the taller man's shirt and pull him toward himself forcefully. His head collides with Renard's chest. They both grunt in pain. No one cares, though.

 

“Sean...!” This leaves him in a whispered rush. He closes his eyes, inhales the man's scent. His hands cannot seem to keep still. They roam as if searching for purchase. Finally – even while his powerful zauberbiest supports his weight and leads them back to the narrow cot – his arms find a position that satisfies his need for reassurance, wrapped around Sean's waist and in no hurry to let go.

 

“Sean, you are not dead. Thank God, you're not dead.” Nick's breath hitches. He cannot repress the reaction.

“No, I'm not. Hush, I'm not. Just a bit worse for wear.”

Somehow Renard manages to sit them both down of the camp bed without altering their positions much.

“Go slowly. Here, can you hear my heart beating? Your head is resting just above it.”

“Yes. Yes, I can.”

“Good. You see, I am alive. Go easy. You have just escaped death and then fought a battle that nearly killed you... again.”

 

Often-times when at work Nick has taken Renard for being dispassionate and coolly calculating. There's nothing of that now. His 'biest has been stripped of his defences, of his mask, just as Nick has been. Those long arms wrap around him tightly expressing the selfsame need for reassurance of the others health that has driven the Grimm. He feels more than hears Sean huff something between a breath and a laugh.

 

“Really, Nick, after this is over we will have a long talk about self-preservation and self-destruction and which of those we do not chose as the force fuelling our actions.”

He nearly manages his normal strict tone. Nick huffs himself.

“That's good, then we can exchange experiences. Don't think I haven't heard your last words! You were prepared to... die.”

He says all this to Sean's chest where his head is still buried, nearly manages his normal sarcastic to teasing tone. Until his voice breaks at the very last word. A shudder goes through him. He tries to squash it down and fails miserably. These new feelings, they are confusing and so damn strong.

“Shhh. We will discuss this later. When we are both a little less battered.”

“You are changing the subject.”

“And I advertised the very fact when I proposed delaying that discussion, did I not? I never tried to hide that fact.”

That is met by contemplative silence.

“I don't think you are like your half-brother.”

“Now that certainly is a way of changing a subject. I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Nick's snort mirrors Sean's own amusement.

“Yeah, sorry. I'm still a bit muddled. But I mean it. You are no manipulative bastard like Eric.”

“Oh, I am. It was a means of survival back then and is even now. At least where my... family is concerned.”

“Fucked up world.” There's a darkness underlying the statement that has nothing to with suspicion. This is anger. And Sean is surprised to find that his Grimm's anger is directed not at him but his family. It warms something deep inside him.

 

But still, now is not the time to have this talk.

“We have to get you to hospital soon. You are far from healed.”

“You are not unscathed, either. I feel bandages under your shirt. I guess those stabilise broken ribs? I heard your laboured breathing... earlier when you attempted to heal me a second time around.”

Before he can reply Nick adds:

“I did that. I caused your injuries when I shoved you back.”

Grimms heal incredibly fast. Already Nick has regained enough strength to sit up slowly whereas he's been slumped against his Captain's chest before. His gaze when he looks up is serious and collected. Nick is good, has developed far better self control than when he first came into his heritage. But Sean can see behind the mask.

He sees deep sorrow. Nick deserves the truth, though. He will not degrade him by lying.

“Yes, you did.” His own sharp gaze captures that of his beloved Detective.

“But there is a difference between causing something and being responsible for it. Your actions where not your own. On the contrary, you did everything to resist what tried to control you.”

Nick listens but he isn't convinced. But Sean needs him to understand. He pins the Grimm with his gaze, silently orders him not to look away. Instinctively he seeks Nick's touch, takes his wrists where they lay in the man's lap.

“Do you know, what you did? Shall I tell you what you really did?”

 

Nick swallows, visibly braces himself for what he expects to be a merciless verdict.

“Yes, you shoved me into a wall but you also saved me. I would be dead right now if you had not fought with all your strength, far beyond your strength, actually. You made an empowered touch possible and thus saved both our lives. And yes, I have been prepared to die for it was entirely possible that you were too far gone to fight. But you weren't and it would have also killed me not to try at all... because I could not have lived with that thought.”

 

It all comes out in a rush. There's nothing controlled or calculated about it, this is like before, this is purely Sean. The young Grimm for all his growing experience is speechless. Nick's own insecurity helps Sean regain his equilibrium after baring his soul in a way he has never thought possible for him.

“Come here, mon gamin. Really, someday you'll give me grey hairs.”

 

He pulls Nick into a tight embrace and surprises them both by placing the lightest of kisses on top of unruly dark locks. It takes some time for all that has happened to register in his Detective's mind, but when it does, he relaxes against his tall man with an explosive rush of breath. Seam cannot see it but knows that Nick has closed his eyes to regain control of his emotions once more. For a long time silence reigns. They both need this... as much as they need rest and medical attention, if Renard is honest with himself.

>>>

Nick hears light snoring and turns toward the noise... that does sound somehow familiar. Monroe. That must be Monroe. He hasn't spared a thought for him until now. Guilt twinges through him but soon his thoughts are interrupted:

 

“Our big bad wolf needed a good night’s sleep. Marking territory in a forest takes a lot out of you.”

“He didn’t, did he?” The thought of the blutbad marking the perimeter like he did that one memorable time when Nick has come across him in his garden nearly makes him choke, coughing a bit and turning an interesting shade of red.

 

“Go slowly.” Amusement tinges his tone while Renard takes up a water bottle and makes Nick drink a few sips, all as if this is the most natural thing in the world. Nick has always marvelled at the man’s ability to adept.

A smirk adorns patrician features when he looks up at his 'biest.

 

“No, actually marking territory wasn’t necessary to put him to sleep. He managed that by coming here and taking care of us while we were blissfully unaware.”

 

The fresh bandage around Renard's head, which he notices only now, is obvious testament to that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we leave Nick WHUMP territory and enter the battered heroes one. As much as I loved writing the last chapters, it was good to have Nick and Sean go back to a bit of banter and teasing. ;)


	11. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the second to last chapter... I still cannot believe that this story has grown to this point. ;)

Chapter 11: Loose ends

Morning has finally arrived, first streaks of light illuminating the small hut's interior. Nick wakes up alone but this time it is without that gut wrenching feeling of terror. His Grimm senses adjust quickly, taking in the sound of Monroe's continued snoring and the many nearly indiscernible ones that make up Renard's movements. Going by those sounds, the man has gone out to check on Veering.  
Nick cannot help but wonder how, in such a short time, he has grown this well attuned to the zauberbiest. This familiarity, it goes so far that listening closely he can imagine exactly what Renard does.

Marvelling at this he sits on the camp bed, knees drawn up to his chest and a blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders – a blanket his Captain has put there and which Nick is reluctant to give up even as he contemplates rising from his spot.  
He thinks further about the other man. Now, in the light of the day Nick is certain that Sean will to some degree keep his distance. To make things easier for them, maybe, less awkward.  
And to hide his own uncertainty of how to handle things. He will be Captain... Royal Bastard and Nick will be Detective and Grimm. But still there's a difference. There is closeness, warmth and affection... there have been sacrifices on both sides that change everything.

The man of those last 12 hours has been a far cry from Renard's usual dispassionate, collected, always in control self. This man is someone he may be able to love... and already does, if he is completely honest with himself. It's all there, hiding just under the surface of every day routines and familiar behavioural patterns, waiting to show itself in the smallest of things:

An incident of surprising openness on Renard's side maybe, when he reveals to Nick what is normally hidden under layers upon layers of guarded thoughts, a softness to angular features or a sudden rush of concern from Nick that's so strong it nearly throws him.  
That is not to say that at first chance given they will confess their undying love for each other. That's not who they are.  
Still....  
With a quiet little smile the Grimm Detective looks around the hut once more. The floor still looks terrible. Blood smears sully wooden floor boards, dried up and unlikely to ever vanish completely; the rest is surprisingly tidy, though.  
And then there's his blutbad friend. Sleeping soundly, sitting with his back against the wall and his head sunk onto his chest. It is a curious feeling to realise that this is one of the two people responsible for saving his life yet again.

 _Monroe should have a blanket, too._  
The thought comes out of nowhere and stems from a protectiveness for his friend that hasn't been there before, at least not this strong.

 _He's a blutbad. Most likely he doesn't even need a blanket._  
Still he gets up – carefully to test the waters – and silently pads over to the sleeping man once he is sure that his legs will hold him. Doing things one handed with his right arm still out of commission (and smarting more fiercely than Nick is ready to admit) is most likely the reason that – just as Nick tries to adjust his blanket over his friend – Monroe makes some snuffling, snorting noise before slowly coming awake.

A bout of mischievousness, that's rooted in the general giddiness at being alive... and other things, makes the young Detective smirk. He might be a bit incapacitated but he is still a Grimm with good instincts and reflexes. He squats down onto the balls of his feet, scoots back just far enough to be fully in Monroe's field of vision but still out of reach and then he waits. He's so intent on watching the other man wake up that the door opening and Sean quietly stepping in escapes his notice completely.

The Prince for his part stays back leaning against the door frame and watches curious what his impossible Grimm is up to now. The picture is somewhat endearing, especially because by now Nick is wearing Sean's dark blue sweater in lieu of his own trashed shirt and said sweater is not only two sizes too big but bulges over the middle as Nick's right arm in the sling simply doesn't fit through a sleeve and had to go underneath.

The clockmaker's nose twitches slightly – already taking up the Grimm's scent – and just as he blinks his eyes open sleepily Nick asks in a loud stage whisper:  
“ _Who's_ Sleeping Beauty now?”  
Monroe starts awake fully at that, woging briefly and at the same time making a funny strangled noise. He jerks his head back and for all his trouble bumps into the wall behind him. The scowl he sends his friend is ferocious, not dampened in the least by him rubbing the sore spot.  
“I would say a certain someone has woken up in a decidedly too sunny mood.”  
Sarcasm is spread as thickly as butter on a scone and his glare this time does include Renard – who _he_ has noticed – as if the man is at fault for the Grimm's sudden giddiness... which he is, Monroe is sure. That stare only reluctantly refocuses from the Captain to his friend when he grumbles:

“And just so you know, Sleeping Beauty is still firmly in your camp because...” He beckons him forward by crooking a single finger and waiting for the Grimm to move into whispering range, which Nick does thus showing either an alarming lot of trust or idiocy.

“... _you_ , Mister, have finally gotten your Prince Charming.”  
_Ha, I said it!!_  
To his credit Nick doesn't kill him. His eyes narrow, he sputters silently and his left hand twitches but he doesn't kill him!  
“I have heard that.” This is Prince Charming. Only that he does not sound friendly in the least but rather royally unamused at the title.

Monroe is seriously torn between running and laughing. On one hand, there's the damn scary half-zauberbiest Prince glaring down on him. But on the other hand there's Nick, pulling his head between his shoulders like a bulldog, then slowly looking behind himself to find Renard standing there and looking like a dark cloud and finally turning his head back toward him. That the Captain is wearing only his black long sleeved shirt instead of the sturdy sweater (now adorning the Grimm... whenever they have done _that_ ), and thus showing off quite a bit of muscle, reinforces the impression of a powerful, dangerous man.

It's a bit difficult, really, to decide which one should be Monroe's first concern in terms of continued survival because by now Nick looks like he would gladly take on the challenge of strangling him single handedly... at least if that ever darkening blush and evil eye is any indication!

_Monroe, where did you leave your instinct of self-preservation today... somewhere in Nebraska?_

He shifts tactics hurriedly:  
“What are you even doing here on the floor, dude? You should be resting that arm or better yet that whole rest of yourself, instead of startling innocent people!”  
“So I did manage to startle you?”  
Monroe wants to growl at that smug tone – payback for his comment about Prince Charming, no doubt – and at the quiet chuckle that comes from impossibly high up from a certain evil man. Nick continues speaking, though, forcing the clockmaker to refocus his attention yet again:

“First of all I thought you needed a blanket, which was nice of me, you must admit, and secondly, I officially renounce my comment about you being a big bad wolf... again.... You definitely are not. You are a mother-hen of epic proportions.”  
“Mother-hen?! (The tone is incredulous.) As if! You haven't seen yourself screaming and writhing in pain for God knows how long...! And that was before all that creepy Gollum business even started!”

“Well, of course I haven't seen myself do that. I didn't need to because I was there... I was _it_ so to speak! And that was no Gollum business.... Okay, it was a bit like that but, anyway, don't you think it's enough you thought I had a... you know?”  
Any further comment is prevented by Renard butting in, tone aloof and still fairly oozing disapproval:  
“Gentlemen...!”  
“What?” Suddenly blutbad and Grimm are quite united in their reaction. The Captain's eyes actually roll heavenward while he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.  
“Never mind... just keep fairytale puns to a minimum or I won't be responsible for my actions anymore.” His tone may be deceptively mild, but as the two of them look at each other and nod like school boys, who have just survived a damn impressive scolding by their principal, it's clear to all that his order will be obeyed.  
They wait until Renard has taken refuge on the single chair and is situated in the far corner of the hut before they utter in another stage whisper:  
“He needs a reeaally strong coffee.”  
Nick and Monroe are not sure if the responding low growl (which he never emitted, if anyone were to ask) shows more irritation or actual longing. The Grimm cannot help grinning like mad even when Monroe begins to eye him strangely because he simply cannot stop.

_It's definitely not suddenly confessing our undying love... just now it's more like at the station when he ponders, if forcing Hank and me on desk duty is more of a punishment for the rest of the station or for us... and maybe it could be so much more when we get the chance to unravel without prying eyes._

Somehow, at least at this stage, Nick is content with that. It is one thing to show such emotions when anxiety overwhelms you into needing reassurance but it is another thing entirely to let go of all those carefully constructed walls in broad daylight and with another one watching. He is under no illusion that either of them would be comfortable with that at this point, so he secretly delights in watching Sean's quirks come into play when the imposing man shows a whole new level of royal grumpiness!

>>>

“Veering is still out despite having passed the 12 hour mark but it's been heard of in some cases of banning a hexenbann. Judging by the depth of his unconsciousness he will be out for a while longer. That's more than enough time to put him into a holding cell at precinct.”  
They are now sitting together, Sean and Nick on the camp bed and Monroe on the chair, planning their next steps. Leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs the Captain continues nearly as if this is a briefing at precinct:

“We may not be able to make a case against him for murder just yet but even if that fails we do have attempted escape and violent assault of police officers to confront him with.”  
Sean Renard is an epitome of calm. Nobody seeing him like this would have thought him to have a more personal reason for wanting that man behind bars. But Nick knows better. He may not be able to see his Captain's true feelings on the matter but he can practically _feel_ vibes of cold fury coming off him. It's instinctual, really, born out of the same insight into this shrewd man that he already noticed much earlier when they set out on this journey.  
And of course he knows why Renard would rather tear Veering to shreds slowly than put him behind bars.  
A kind of warmth that he hasn't truly known before spreads through the Grimm's chest.  
_Sean is protective of me.... He wants to make that man pay... not only for what he did to 'biester in general but for what he indirectly did to me...._

With a bit of difficulty Nick reaches for the small evidence bag in the back pocket of his jeans and pulls it out for the others to see. Moving around now he feels aches resurface that he thought to have left behind. Apparently not. When a short dizzy spell assaults him he doesn't show it, just goes on with what he's doing. It's not important now.  
At least the evidence seems to have survived everything that's happened.

“What is that?” Sean leans over intrigued. Nick is acutely aware of his presence but not in a bad way. Rather the opposite, if he's honest with himself. There's something tingly, excited bubbling up within him. He hasn't felt like that in a long time and for an instant he relives every moment of closeness in their last hours together. Quite instinctively he mirrors his Captain's movement, drawing nearer, moving into Sean's personal space with a natural ease that startles them both. A minute glance, surprise, the ghost of a smile, invisible to anyone but them.

Monroe making slight gagging noises pulls them out of their little bubble.  
“Come on, guys, you may have poker faces from hell, but I can smell you and, frankly, you fairly reek of....”  
“Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?”  
Renard's voice is deadly calm. The storm raging in those green eyes is not. For a moment Monroe looks like he wants to argue. His eyes glow red as bushy eyebrows draw together in an impressive frown. Finally though, he thinks better of it and addresses Nick:  
“Well, what is it now? You cannot pull the proverbial rabbit out of your hat and then not tell us what it is.”

Nick goes with the flow, knowing that after a night like this everyone's patience is thin as a thread at best and he should do what he can to keep matters calm.  
“I do not have scientific confirmation yet, but I am quite sure that this is the very pendant that was ripped away from around our victim's neck precedent of her murder.”  
He holds the bag farther up to show them.  
“You see, there is blood visible on the metal of pendant and chain links. The latter, of course, is typical for a wound torn just as it happened in case of the vic but those speckles on the pendant are an entirely different matter. They are spread mostly on the back but not smeared, telling us that most likely the victim was leaning forward when they came to be and remained in that position long enough for the blood to dry before the pendant fell back against her skin.”

He looks to Monroe especially, gauging if he is able to follow. His friend nods, frown contemplative this time. Sean watches silently, taking in his Grimm Detective and how he explains matters in a way that will make sense to his blutbad friend. He has always enjoyed watching Nick show his skills but ever since last night that enjoyment has taken on a different nuance.

There's still appreciation on a solely professional level but also there's so much more now. He sees this man – pale, a bit on the sickly side still, but eyes alive with passion for his job and a thirst to uncover, to piece things together – and a feeling of affection surges through him so intense that it frightens him slightly. He pulls away from those contemplations in the end, not out of unease but to better appreciate the content of _what_ Nick is saying apart from _how_ he's doing it.

“I think it went like this: Elysa Stephens was killed at the camp site by Veering and the todesqual. You say that Veering couldn't make you woge? (He looks to Sean.) So he needed the other guy's help for that. My guess is that the todesqual held and injured Miss Stephens, poisoning her and generating blood speckles as seen on the pendant's backside and then they waited... they waited until she woged out of sheer pain.”  
Nick's gaze turns dark and hard and underneath all this is deep sorrow born out of understanding her agony on a personal level.

Saying it out loud drives home the fact what a cruel act those two men have committed. It shows their depravity more clearly than any evidence could and is difficult to stomach. He is a professional, though, so he takes a deep breath and continues his report:  
“Before killing her not only has the pendant been ripped away from her throat but also has her digital camera been damaged without anyone noticing because it was in her coat pocket. Time and date displayed on the last picture taken are close enough to the time of death as determined by the coroner to imply that those last pictures show the site of murder, although the place of her discovery is a different one.”  
Renard and Monroe listen enraptured. A glint comes to their Grimm's eyes, dulled by empathy for the victim but there nonetheless. Sean knows what this means and even Monroe has solved enough cases together with his friend to know that Nick will reveal the most important bit now:  
“And t _his_ on the front side is what I would call a partial fingerprint in blood, hopefully from Veering....”  
“... Which would enable us to tie him to the murder of one Elysa Stephens.” The zauberbiest completes his sentence with something akin to pride.  
“Exactly.” The ghost of a triumphant smile lights up Nick's features and is mirrored by his two companions.

“Where did you find it?”  
Something in Nick's face closes off then, pale features darkening in remembrance, a shadow crossing over his face.

“Nick?” Sean's hand on his shoulder is warm even when his tone remains neutral as befitting his position. Deep feelings are there, just below the surface, showing themselves not in words but only in smallest gestures and expressions.  
His Grimm visibly shakes himself out of his dark thoughts, adopting a mask of professionalism once again.  
“Umm. The Todesqual took it from the site of crime, wanted it as trophy most likely or retrieve it to let evidence disappear, but he dropped it at some point throughout our fight. I found it after he went over the edge and before I heard... the sounds of your fight.”

Nick knows, no matter how different a turn their relationship has taken, his zauberbiest values his privacy highly and as he isn't aware what the man has told Monroe he will not say that he has heard him scream.  
“Good work, Nick. Sound reasoning backed up with credible evidence. If this fingerprint indeed matches Veering's, we have enough to make a case against him.”  
When they exchange a small grin this time, it is not about enamoured feelings but about long standing colleagues solving a case together... about bringing justice to victims and clearance to their relatives.

>>>

“Okay, this is what we will do: I will put Veering under arrest at precinct, taking the SUV, and you will take Nick to hospital.”  
It is clear by his expression that Renard expects his orders to be followed. This is not a question but informing subordinates about a decision... only that Monroe is neither his subordinate nor in any way agreeable with the man's plan.

“Oh no, you will not!!” His words have an almost desperate but mostly exasperated tinge to it, angering Renard and startling Nick. Before the proud Royal can make his displeasure known, however, the blutbad goes on:

“If you think I will let you drive along break neck forest tracks alone, with broken ribs and a suspect to content with, who may or may not wake up during the trip, you must be delusional, indeed! I didn't give up a quiet evening and peaceful night only to have you injure yourself further because of some misplaced pride!!”  
Seeing the Captain exhibiting all the little signs of cold fury while giving nothing away on the outside Nick wants to intervene but Monroe cuts across him as well:

“And don't you think that _you_ are any better! You may be really good at hiding that you are still feeling like crap and steadily growing worse... again... but I know better. You need a doctor as much as _he_ does (he jabs his finger in Renard's direction) and I swear to you both, if you try to pull a stunt like this, I will call rescue service up here and have them cart both of you off to the nearest hospital!”  
Monroe has a wild look of worry and agitation about him while Renard makes for the total counter part, giving off an aura of intense power and control. The man doesn't rise from his spot, doesn't speak or even move. He pins the blutbad with an icy stare, eyes hard as chips of green jade.

It's an unending battle fought within Monroe:  
Wesen recoiling from Royal, from the ruler of his home-town, while the sentient mind takes up the challenge against another man's authority and will. Monroe might not be the Royal here but he is stubborn, strong-willed and generally good at defying what is expected of him, so he holds his ground even against Renard's cold glare.  
“You know very well, that I am not doing this to control you or undermine your status as ruler or other such nonsense but because I worry about that stubborn prat other there (this time it's Nick whose pointed at)... and about you, even if I myself cannot wholly understand why I am doing so. So why don't you let me propose a different way to go about this instead of beheading me right now?”

For a moment Nick fears his zauberbiest will give in to his urge to make Monroe's place in his personal food chain very clear but in the end level headedness wins out. Unconsciously both Grimm and blutbad exhale in relief when Renard gives a minute jerk of his head to prompt Monroe into relaying his plan.

Nick can feel Sean's watchful gaze resting on him and knows that above all he has agreed because he sees now what Monroe has known from the beginning – Nick is still ailing from last night's events and even Grimm healing and durability cannot account for everything. That gaze turns sharp for a single moment, admonishing him for hiding yet again, before intense scrutiny is put on Monroe.  
The blutbad for all his bravado cannot help swallowing thickly before scraping together his considerable courage and speaking up:

“Okay, how about this: I drive all four of us, taking Nick's truck, and I'll try to evade those patrol guys Nick set up to monitor the roads. And before you ask, I do have my ways of keeping us off the radar. There are a few tracks out here that main roads do not take into account. When at hospital... yes, I'll take you straight to hospital to get those injuries of yours seen to and I won't budge on that no matter, if you kill me with dark looks....”  
He underlines that comment with a blutbad worthy dark stare.  
“Well, anyway. Once there, the Captain can call those patrols, scold them for not seeing us, or rather you two, while you already apprehended the guy and tell them to come fetch Veering while I take Nick in to see a doctor.”

Long tense silence ensues in the wake of Monroe's words. Renard looks to be brooding but both other men know that he just thinks it over from all angles.  
“There is one flaw in your plan. What about your own car? I will need to send techs to secure the crime scene and retrieve the other body. They will almost certainly wind up here, too, and finding your car will look suspicious to say the least.”  
“I've already thought about that. Before we leave here I'll put it somewhere less conspicuous and if you give me a bit of headway later and pull off surveillance, I'll be able to fetch my car before they get there. The distance is no matter for me when woged as you very well know.”

>>>

An hour later three companions and one unconscious suspect drive along forest tracks that are every bit as bumpy as Monroe said they would be. Sean – sitting in the back together with Nick – sets his jaw to keep from making a sound every time they hit a hole in the road. Not that his Grimm is in any state to notice his discomfort, so he's safe on that side, but it's Monroe he'll have to watch, if he wants to keep his own pain hidden.

In lieu of thinking too closely about the various aches ailing him he looks down upon the mop of unruly dark hair to his left. Nick has fallen asleep sometime during their trip. That he has managed to do so at all is a telltale sign of how exhausted he truly is.

Besides ordering him to stay put while they have prepared everything for their departure, the few things he did and the short way to his truck have taken a lot out of him.  
It's no wonder, really. With Nick's ability to hide (and ignore) injuries and other health issues it is disconcertingly easy to overlook things going downhill.

But even the Grimm has not been able hide a thin sheen of sweat appearing on his brow or a sudden pallor coming to his skin, so when Sean inconspicuously has helped him into the truck he's leaned near and murmured:

“I know you are feeling unwell and suffering a setback, Nick. The next time you notice your health deteriorating you will tell me and not wait for Monroe to notice, is that clear? You may not always be aware, but I _do_ care.”  
His tone is cool and leaves no room for arguments but there's just enough warmth at the end to make Nick smile.

“If you do the same, Captain, ...you may not always see it but I _do_ care.” Nick's words are a low whisper, a mirror image of Sean's own and wrought with affection. It is his eyes, however, that clue Sean in on the depth of what his Grimm is really feeling.  
“Doesn't come it in handy, then, that we have a mother-henning blutbad who has bullied us into agreeing to go to hospital?”  
An amused chuckle, a quirk of lips.  
“I cannot put into words how glad I am....” The irony there is as heavy as it has been when Sean spoke.  
“Hey, I do possess acute hearing and you haven't been all that quiet over there!” There's barking but no bite in Monroe's words as he makes his way toward them carrying the still unconscious Veering over to the car.

All that has been half an hour ago. Now his beloved has sunk against his side, cheek resting against his shoulder and breathing evened out in sleep. As unobtrusively as possible he snakes an arm around his Grimm, pulling him securely against his own body for the bumpy ride and conveniently ignoring his own body's protests.

>>>

It all goes according to plan. They drive to hospital, Renard makes the necessary phone calls and awaits patrol by Nick's car to oversee their suspect being taken into custody. Nick and Monroe are already inside, where Renard is headed now.  
He has a promise to keep, after all.  
Had it only been Monroe pestering him into seeing a doctor he would have outright refused and rode along to precinct with Veering but there's been a certain thick-headed Grimm making him promise to follow after them once finished, even while that selfsame man has been teetering on the edge of an exhausted sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some of the case fic part and returning home from their excursion... or as much home as a hospital can be called. ^, ^


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the final chapter of my first real multi-chaptered Grimm fanfiction. I am a bit sad to see it come to an end because it was great fun writing it, but anyway, I think this is a good point to end it. ;) 
> 
> Have fun, I hope you like how our three heroes wrap it all up.

 

Chapter 12: Epilogue

 

“Do you see him approaching?”

“Not yet.”

Nick lies half reclined on one of the examination tables in A&E. A doctor was there earlier, taking a first look, before re-wrapping the wound and starting him on painkillers, anti-inflammatories and fluids to compensate for blood loss. 

Monroe has informed the doc of the heavily edited basics – they were out in the woods with the Captain when Nick got attacked, they couldn't do first aid until roughly 4 hours later, and so on – and he is now hovering around while they wait for someone to actually treat Nick's injuries.

“Is he here, yet?” 

“Nope.” Their local Grimm may be groggy as hell drugged with painkillers as he is but he is far from out of the game. For the last 15 minutes he has repeatedly asked after Renard and Monroe has the feeling that he won't let go and relax before the man has arrived.

“Do you see him now?”

“ _No_ , Nick, I do _not_. But he _will_ get here after he's finished with whatever police things he has to do!” 

He is beginning to get the tiniest bit exasperated.

“How do you know?... That he'll come, that is....” 

Nick tries valiantly to keep his eyes open, sits up a bit more even, hunching over, to keep alert.

_Jep, definitely resisting the effect of painkillers... stubborn idiot!_

“ _Because_ a certain thick-headed Detective has asked him to and, honestly, at the moment you could ask him to do a somersault through a fiery hoop and he would do it!” 

With that he steps right up to his friend's bed and – going practically nose to nose with him – growls lowly:

“And now listen, buddy! I know that you are using your Grimm powers to fight off the effects of those pain meds they have you hooked onto and that stops right now. If your Captain sees you like this, believe me, he'll tear you a new one, so be a good little Grimm and quit resisting them!”

“But I need to....”

“No, Nick, you don't. You are torn up pretty badly and you have been through some shit that would have had others drop unconscious long ago and, you know, we want you to get better not worse.”

Nick gives a huff of slight protest but at Monroe's firm pushing gives in and closes his eyes while leaning back against the pillows.

“There's a good boy.”

“So funny.” Sarcasm is still heavy no matter how slurred the actual words are.

>>>

Finally Renard arrives in A&E, spotting them and stepping over immediately. Seeing him now no one would have guessed that the man has a few broken ribs to content with. Zauberbiester are durable to say the least and Renard is a true master of hiding what he doesn't want to be seen.

“How are things?” 

“Still waiting for them to take him in for treatment. They already did a first assessment, though, and about 5 minutes ago he actually dropped from whatever they gave him.”

They both hear a heavy exhale of breath and see their Grimm slump just a bit further into the mattress. Royal and blutbad exchange a glance that speaks volumes. Renard pinches the bridge of his nose – the only sign that he is less relaxed than he lets on - before asking quietly:

“Let me take a guess: Nick resisted his pain meds until about 5 minutes ago?”

“You got it, dud... Captain.”

“And that exhale we just heard means that he's waited for my arrival before succumbing to sleep completely?”

“Jup. That's my guess, anyway.” 

Renard shakes his head mildly, looking down on his Grimm with something between irritation and great fondness.

“Umm. I'm afraid they cut open your sweatshirt. Thought it was easier to just cut it off instead of having him get out of it, apparently.”

 

The Captain gives an untypical shrug.

“It was ruined, anyway, when it got snagged by the dagger earlier.”

“Oh, man. We do come across some crazy stuff, don't we?”

Sean inclines his head, in complete agreement with the other man, before getting back to business:

“You should heed out now. Take a cab to however close you need to get, I will reimburse you for your expanses later.”

“Thanks, but I think I'll manage. I might not look the part....”

Sean is silently amused at the blutbad's self-ironic tone while he looks himself and his rather interesting attire up and down.

“... But I am off well enough.”

“Very well, I will see you later, most likely.”

Monroe throws a last glance at his sleeping friend before, inclining his head in farewell, he turns and heads for the wide doors.

Only when Sean is alone with Nick he does allow himself a moment of weakness and gingerly lowers himself into the lone chair next to the examination couch. He'll just wait for someone to come by... and in the meantime keep a careful eye on his impossible Grimm.

>>>

Nick comes awake slowly, languidly. For once he is absolutely pain free, most likely thanks to the IV-drip he's hooked onto. After the last 24 hours – or what he assumes to be that span of time – this is a truly great feeling. He's no longer at A&E but in a single bed room and it is dark outside. A glance to his right confirms his suspicion about having received treatment already: His right arm is thickly bandaged and strapped to his torso by a standard issue medical sling. 

When the door opens and no other than Captain Renard steps into the room Nick is not surprised. He has – be it unconsciously or knowing – already taken up the man's near silent footsteps from outside and recognized them as belonging to him.

“Nick. Good to see you awake.”

His own tired smile is mirrored by a pleasantly surprised one from Sean. Nick follows his every movement when his tall 'biest steps over and sits down in the visitor's chair gracefully. A knowing quirk shows on the Grimm delectable lips.

“So you got your ribs seen to and actually took the pain medication they gave you?”

Something intense but benign flashes through Renard's green eyes, cracking his neutral facade momentarily, and he smirks.

“Observant as always, Detective. I see there is not much getting past you.” 

In affirmation of his statement he even undoes a single button of his new and pristine dress shirt so that his Grimm can see the fresh bandages there. 

“What can I say, Grimm healing abilities and a whole lot of pain meds do make for a much clearer head.”

“Apropos medication and powers, Monroe told me that _you_ once again ignored the needs of your body and used Grimm resilience to resist the drugs they gave you?” 

Nick totally ignores the hint of steel in the man's tone and that protective, displeased flash in his eyes – or at least he tries to.

“Monroe really does need to get his priorities straight and he is still a mother-hen.” 

Sean for his part tries to blend out how utterly delicious his Grimm looks when his expression turns just this side of pouting and goes for a more neutral but no less important matter:

“Your blutbad friend was worried and had due cause to be. The same goes for me, which you would know, if you remembered our earlier conversation by your car.” 

Nick heaves a sigh.

“Okay, okay, I'll promise I'll take better care next time... but....”

“But?” Sean waits patiently for his beloved to end whatever battle he fights within. Deep down he has known what he wants for a long time, but it took their excursion into the woods to openly recognize what he his subconsciousness has know for quite a while now. Leaning back he seems to be an epitome of calm while in reality he knows that what Nick tries to tell him now could take them a big step forward in whatever their feelings for each other may be called.

Stormy grey eyes seek out his own, stay there, unwavering... captivating. It reminds Sean of earlier when Nick has still been under Twilight's influence and yet has held his gaze to show him that he still had a will of his own.

_Oh, my strong, beautiful brat...._

“I needed to know... that you would come.... that you were safe and on your way back to being sound again....”

A nearly indiscernible waver shakes his voice. He looks away then, afraid that his strong, independent 'biest will laugh at him for his petty concerns and insecurities. A large warm hand closes around his left wrist and squeezes gently.

“I know that. And I am aware that you have waited for me before going under completely.” Nick's head whips up, mouth opening for words of denial, but the deep, wholly unexpected emotion on Sean's usually coolly set features make him snap his mouth shut again.

“You see, we both need a bit of reassurance of the other's well-being from time to time... in order to keep from going insane.”

Nick likes this, ... likes it extremely well, especially in face of Sean's own admission. He cocks his head to the side, a relieved smile coming to his lips.

“We are right a pair, aren't we?... Oh, apropos pair, did the fingerprint match  Veering's?”

“You do have a way of changing the subject. Which reminds me that once you are out of hospital we will have a talk about self preservation. But back to your initial question for now: Yes, it did match. They are pressing charges as we speak.”

There's satisfaction there and it goes way beyond the mere contentment of arresting a criminal. For a moment Nick can see the dangerous 'biest, the powerful Royal within the man, desiring to crush and punish, and it settles something deep inside him. He is aware that with this man there always will be danger, there will always be challenge but he also knows that there is an urge to protect and nurture inside them both – an urge so strong that it sometimes is overwhelming.

Sean Renard, the Royal Bastard and half-zauberbiest, is no one to take on lightly, no one to back down from a fight, but Nick is strong and matches him step by step. For all their differences they are equals, they are made to balance each other out, good sides and bad, which they both possess.

“Good.” His Captain must see some of his thoughts in him for his own responding smile is knowing and there's just a hint of darkness in there.

“He will never be able to hurt anyone else... not as a hexenbann at least and not as long as law has any say in it.”

There's silence in the wake of this, both following their own train of thoughts, but it is a companionable one.

Nick for his part remembers the last 24 hours in great detail – the bad aspects, the painful ones and the good, the mind blowing moments when Sean showed him that he is so much more than a zauberbiest, a Prince or even his Captain....

… the caring...

… the love....

At this thought he breaks the silence:

“There was something I meant to ask much earlier but did not get around to doing.”

“And what would that be?” 

“ _Mon gamin_ , what does that mean?”

That barely there smirk, that amused glint in his eyes.

“Brat.”

“Hey, I was only asking, you know?”

A huffed laugh now, gentle, teasing, not mocking in the least. The darkness from earlier has vanished out of those captivating eyes, leaving a warmth and affection that makes Nick's breath catch in his throat.

“You misunderstood me. _Mon gamin_ , it means _my brat_.”

At first this gets him a dirty look but soon Nick cannot help himself and a wide  grin steals upon him. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. When he locks eyes with Sean in the end, it is the Captain's turn to swallow thickly in face what is presented to him.

In that single unwavering gaze there is so much more than he would ever have expected....

“Your brat, indeed. … If you want to, that is. And if we can work it all out.”

They both know there's quite a lot to work through, actually, but this is a start....

… Their start, maybe.

 

The End

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Done! Done!!! ^____^ I cannot believe it!!  
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos and bookmarks!! I cannot say how happy all those made me and how often I sat there laughing or squealing in delight! You guys are all great, thank you!


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